The Dragon, The Bear & The Wolf
by Cantique
Summary: The Dragonborn didn't fight a war just to see Skyrim fall back into the hands of the Empire. She'll do anything to keep Skyrim free, even if it means political marriage. SHAMELESS F!DRAGONBORN/ULFRIC AND F!DRAGONBORN/FARKAS BECAUSE I AM SELF INDULGENT AND GOING THROUGH A BREAKUP AND I NEED THIS
1. To Strengthen Skyrim

Ingrid had always had a special place in her heart for Windhelm. The crispness of the cold was unique to the area. It wasn't a soggy cold like Winterhold, or a windy cold like Dawnstar. Windhelm, despite its name, was a dry cold, one that seemed to kiss her skin and settle gently. Sure, with enough time it could chill you to the bone, but she was made for that kind of cold. She was, after all, a Nord.

Still, despite her attempts to take pleasure in the air as usual whenever she was in Windhelm, her stomach still tightened as her mind moved at a frantic pace. Why had she been summoned again? The war was ended a mere two weeks before. She'd barely touched her own bed in Whiterun before she was asked to come back. Ulfric Stormcloak's summons had been urgent, though, and he wasn't a man to ask for help unless it was needed. Whatever it was, it had to be important, and that weighed heavily on her mind.

The doors of the Palace were opened, creaking loudly on their giant hinges as if to announce her arrival to everyone within. She looked across the great hall - all seemed calm, no one seemed too troubled. Ingrid hoped that this indicated her first guess was wrong, that the Thalmor _hadn't_ decided to retaliate so quickly.

"Stormblade," the familiar voice of Galmar called from across the hall, arms crossed with laughter in his tone. "Back for more already?"

Rolling her eyes, Ingrid approached him, paying little mind to the mud she was tracking across the floors. She made a mental note to apologise about that later. "Couldn't keep myself away. I just love the smell of wet bear hide." She smirked as Galmar lead her into the war room. "What's so urgent that you needed me back here?" She asked. "I'd guessed the Thalmor, but if that had been the case, you'd be breaking things, not making jokes at my expense."

"Believe me, if the Thalmor raises it's ugly head, you'll be one of the first to know." He paused. "That's if Ulfric doesn't shout so loud out of anger that even the Greybeards hear it. But, to answer your question: I don't know."

Ingrid did a double take. "What?" she asked, blinking with disbelief. "That's impossible."

"For me to not know?" Galmar shrugged as he lead Ingrid, to her surprise, straight through the war room and towards the Palace's chambers. "I know Ulfric well enough to know that he only keeps from me what he has reason to."

"So you're not curious?" Ingrid tried to count the rooms in her head as she passed them, trying to figure out where they were going. Usually they housed her in one of the guest chambers, but they'd gone well past those. She wasn't even sure she'd been this far in. "Not even a little?"

"Curious?" He repeated, "Yes." They came to a stop by a set of double-doors at the end of the hall, guarded by two guards, relaxing as though they'd been expecting her. "But if Ulfric has good reason to not tell me something, it's probably for the best I don't know." He opened one of the doors for her, gesturing for her to step inside. It was then that Ingrid noticed these were someone's chambers and felt incredibly uncomfortable.

However, she had been summoned, and hesitantly obliged, stepping into the quarters. It was warmer in there the rest of the Palace, something which was amplified when the door was shut behind her, pushing the last of the draft past her. Ulfric stood by the open fireplace, his back turned to her at first, giving her enough time to try and hide the awkwardness she felt being alone with him in what she could assume was his chambers. "I'm glad you could come," he said, finally turning to face her. "And to return so soon, too. I must thank you for that." He smiled, something she returned, of course, but Ingrid could still tell there was something serious underneath. It was the same expression he gave her when she returned with news of her campaign's' success, only to find two others had failed elsewhere.

"Well, you aren't a man to request urgency unless it's essential." She found herself glancing around, but quickly found herself embarrassed, returning her eyes to him. She was the Dragonborn, she wasn't meant to be dazzled by finery. "What do you need of me?"

"As you already know, I have not yet secured my place as High King of Skyrim, even though it is my right," he began, moving to his table and pouring some wine into two cups.

"Yes, but the Moot would only really be a formality," she paused when he lifted both the cups, reaching out to her to offer one. "No, thank you."

He shrugged, placing the cup intended for her back down. "A formality. Yes. That was the plan… it would seem, however, that there have been some developments." He paused to drink from his cup, a frustration apparent in his eyes. "There is more support for Elisif than I had anticipated."

Ingrid raised an eyebrow. "But Elisif swore fealty to you, that she wouldn't challenge your claim." 

"She did. But technically, Elisif doesn't have to lift one of her dainty Imperial-loving fingers to be placed on the throne. Just because she doesn't campaign doesn't mean the Jarls can't support her of their own free will," he explained.

Crossing her arms, she smirked. "You honestly believe Elisif hasn't been secretly campaigning for herself? That she hasn't seen to it that others do it for her by proxy?"

Ulfric broke from his gaze, which had been aimed at nothing in particular, and gave a singular chuckle. "Not for one second," he smirked. "But proving that would take time, and that is in short supply."

"And why are the Jarls so quick to support Elisif?" she asked, genuinely curious and feeling a little frustrated herself. The war had been fought, Ulfric won, it was over. Or at least it was supposed to be.

"Elisif is widowed," he explained, "but she is still the age of a maid. She has plenty of time to remarry and produce a heir, and one of the points of a moot is to try and prevent holding another one in 30 years."

Apparently, this was so ridiculous to Ingrid that she lost all control of herself, giving a loud snort of laughter. " _That's_ the reason?" She asked. "That doesn't make any sense. You've got just as much time as she does to-"

"I've seen 50 winters," he interrupted. This effectively sent Ingrid silent, the silence between the two lasting far longer than was comfortable.

She cleared her throat, trying to will her face into not turning red. During the two day's ride to Solitude, he accidentally walked into her tent while she was changing and saw her in nothing but her smallclothes. This was somehow worse. "You… seem younger."

"I suppose I can take that as a compliment," he reassured her with a small smile. Ingrid couldn't help but feel she wasn't really at fault here. She'd fought beside Ulfric, and even men in their prime hardly compared. "I need to at least show the Jarls that I'm in the process of producing an heir of my own. At the very least," he paused, giving a long, slow exhale, "I need to take a wife with solid political claims of her own." 

"I see," Ingrid replied with a nod. "If you want me to find you a wife, I think that, just this once, you've called on the wrong person." She silently thought over the women she _did_ know who might be suitable, but couldn't get past the utterly bizarre image of Aela in a wedding dress. "It's not as though I surround myself with women of nobility."

"That is not what I need," he began, setting down his cup. He crossed his arms and closed his eyes as he spoke. "What I need, Stormblade, is to wed you."

Ingrid inhaled expecting to laugh, but the moment she realized Ulfric was _not_ joking, all that she could let out was a long exhale that emptied her lungs as though she had been kicked in the gut. " _What_?" She gasped, eyes wide with disbelief. "Are you drunk?"

"Believe me," he sighed, shaking his head, "I explored every option I could. When Galmar suggested it, I asked him the same question."

" _Galmar_ suggested this?" Ingrid asked, her jaw dropping for a moment. "He _knew?_ " Of course he had. Of course. It took every inch of her willpower to not storm out of there right now and shout him out of a window.

"I know, I know," the way Ulfric spoke made it sound as though he was as baffled by this as she was. "But the more I thought about it, the more weight Galmar's idea had. You would be perfect."

Ingrid found herself walking to the table without meaning to and reaching for the wine, almost as if something was taking over her body. "I can't. I'm not nobility. Surely one of the Jarls have a daughter or a sister or… something. Why not just marry Elisif? Stop the problem at the source!"

"And have her kill me in my sleep to rule as a regent?" He asked. "You are well known throughout Skyrim. Most of the Jarls respect you and you've even been named Thane of Windhelm _and_ Whiterun. You're the Harbinger of the Companions, you were instrumental in bringing down the Imperials…" he paused. "And you're the Dragonborn. A Skyrim with the Dragonborn as her High Queen would even send fear into the hearts of the Thalmor - if they had any. You would make Skyrim stronger, not even the most corrupt of Jarls could argue that."

"By the gods…" she stammered, her cup shaking in her hand. "You're actually serious about this." She quickly threw back her wine, drinking all of it in one movement before gasping for air and wiping her mouth unceremoniously with her arm. "You're _proposing._ "

Ulfric frowned at this, a quiet growl emerging under his breath. "I suppose I am, if not purely by definition." There was silence for a moment as he watched her, the mighty Dragonborn, struggle to fill her cup again without accidentally spilling the wine. He wasn't sure if her tremors were caused by shock, anger, or a sudden case of ataxia. Either way, he didn't want to be on the receiving end of what it was building up to. "I don't expect you to answer right away, I'm aware that what I'm asking of you is extreme. Go back to Whiterun, think about it. But consider what this will mean for Skyrim."

Ingrid opened her mouth to protest, but she stopped herself. As insane as this might have felt, Ulfric had a point. In fact, he wouldn't have even proposed the idea to her unless he felt it was the best option. "How long do I have to decide?" she asked.

"If you can send word within two weeks, we'll have enough time to make arrangements depending on your decision before the moot." Ulfric watched her as she stared into the fire, as if he wasn't there. He could tell she was deep in thought, she was the same way before they rode into battle. "For what it's worth, Stormblade," he began, averting his own eyes, "I trusted you beside me in battle, and I would ride with you to Sovngarde and back."

Not even knowing how to respond to what she knew was _supposed_ to be a compliment, Ingrid placed her cup back on the table and made a beeline for the doors. "I'll send word before the fortnight is through," was all she said as she pushed the doors open and vanished down the halls.

Ulfric watched as a confused guard closed the door once more, leaving him alone with the remainder of the wine. He had learned enough about Stormblade during the war to hazard a guess at her reaction to this - either he would receive a rejection from her first thing in the morning, or he would have to wait a very long and very painstaking two weeks for an outcome he couldn't predict.


	2. Tales of Blood

Ingrid's sword hit Farkas' shield with an ear-piercing clang, but the force still was barely enough to even move him. Despite all her training with him, she was still an archer and had been since she was old enough to hunt. Still, she knew Farkas was right whenever he told her it was better to be proficient in more than one weapon. She never knew when she'd run out of arrows, or when a bow string would snap, and she could only shout so many times before she ran out of breath.

"So, are you going to?" He asked from behind his shield. Today's sparring may or may not have partially been therapeutic for her, an outlet for the feelings she didn't quite know how to process. It often was between her and Farkas these days.

"Marry him?" She gave a grunt and repositioned herself, readying for another swing with the greatsword. "I haven't decided yet."

Swinging the sword up, she charged at his shield once again, trying to put as much force behind it as she could. Nothing but noise. Farkas barely blinked at the impact. "Surely you have an idea," he said.

She rolled her neck, wiping a little bit of sweat from her brow. "To be honest with you, I'm leaning a little towards saying no."

"Really?" he asked.

Ingrid raised an eyebrow, surprised by this. "What? Do you think I should?" She smirked. "I didn't take you for such a romantic, Farkas."

He shrugged. "Just thought you might take the opportunity. Being High Queen of Skyrim would help you gain support fighting those dragons." Ingrid pursed her lips at this. She was due for another trip to High Hrothgar soon, something she'd put off for the war on their doorstep. She wouldn't have gotten anywhere with Skyrim divided like it was. "Besides," he lowered the shield, gesturing to the tables, where Tilma was setting out a lunch for them, "if you're not going to marry, you may as well."

"What makes you think I won't marry?" She asked, trying to mask her insult at this. "Are you implying something?:"

"Not implying anything. Just thought you weren't one for it, being the Dragonborn and all." The two head towards the tables, Ingrid's stomach murmuring at the sight of the fish that was laid out on the table for them to share. It wasn't much, but they tended to have larger dinners. "Figured that was why you turned down Vilkas."

She cringed as they sat. Vilkas had proposed to her in Ysgramor's tomb, not long after she'd cured him of the beast blood. Either he'd been very good at hiding his feelings or, more likely, Ingrid had just been oblivious to the whole thing, because it had totally blindsided her and his romantic gesture turned painfully awkward very quickly. Farkas was right to think that was why she had turned his brother down - after all, it was the reason she gave him. Roughly. In a roundabout way. With lots of stuttering on her part. She hardly knew Vilkas and there he had been, declaring that he'd be by her side until the Divines took them. "That would be part of the reason," she conceded, speaking very carefully and knowing that Farkas could let this slip to his brother by accident.

Farkas gave a nod. "If it's political, I doubt that Stormcloak would expect you to stay indoors and make a home for him. You're the Dragonborn, after all. Can't tie you down."

"Ulfric wouldn't expect much of me domestically, no, as long as I provide him with…" she paused, hating what she was about to say, "...an heir to the throne, which I can't imagine would be too hard." Ingrid shook her head, taking a knife to the fish, slicing portions off for herself and her shield-brother. "That's only part of the problem, though. I always thought that, _if_ I ever married, it would be someone I loved. Not, you know, political." She sighed and passed a now-filled plate to Farkas. "Probably one of the few silver linings to peasant life - you can marry who you like."

"I guess it is," he agreed as he took the plate from her. "But there's no one you have in mind?" He asked.

Ingrid shrugged, popping some of the fish in her mouth as she thought. Ralof would probably marry her if she asked him, and he wouldn't make the worst husband, but he'd probably want her to settle down and become a real wife. He was traditional in those respects. She'd had a very short tryst with Brynjolf once, during her days in the thieve's guild, but it was exactly that: a very short tryst. Brynjolf liked her physically, of course, but he wouldn't let her lock him down in a marriage unless there was something in it for him. There'd be no love there, anyway. Expecting him to commit would be like expecting her to start wearing dresses.

"Not that I can think of," she finally replied once she'd finished her mouthful. Gods she was glad they had Tilma to cook for them. Ingrid cooked merely to sustain herself, she couldn't make something as pleasurable to eat as Tilda's cooking if her life depended on it. Another reason it would never work with Ralof. "I suppose it wouldn't be so bad. I'd have all of Skyrim to take on Alduin with."

"And Stormcloak wouldn't treat you like a delicate little doll, considering you won a war for him." He smiled as he said this - it was his way of a compliment. "Don't tell my brother I said this, but I'm glad you didn't marry him." He took Ingrid's raised brow as a cue to explain. "I know my brother and I've seen how he looks at you when you come back to us wounded. He would have tried to wrap you in tundra cotton after a while. Especially if you ever gave him children."

Ingrid nodded in agreement. "I didn't win the war for him, though," he corrected. "I just helped. A lot." She was silent for a short time, pushing her food around on her plate, mulling thoughts over in her head. "Come with me to High Hrothgar," she spoke suddenly, catching his gaze with hers. "I'm leaving tomorrow morning. It's about a day and a half's journey each way, and it's cold and miserable and even _my_ legs feel flimsy as straw after the 7,000 steps…" she trailed off, not sure if he was buying the idea or not. "...Although, I suppose it _is_ dangerous, and it's full of wolves and ice trolls and all kinds of horrible thing that want to kill you."

At this, he smirked, finishing chewing before giving her a full grin. "Sounds like my kind of adventure. ...I thought this was something the Greybeards made you do alone, though. Are you allowed to brings guests?"

"If the Greybeards want me to get to the bottom of this dragon business, they'll let me bring you with me or I'll just go home." She stopped to laugh. "And have you _seen_ me try to set up a tent? I actually need you to come with me or I'll end up freezing to death."

"You never did quite wrap your head around setting up camp," he conceded teasingly. "Sure. I've always wondered what's up there."

Ingrid glanced to the view they had of the mountain. "I won't spoil the surprise for you, then."

* * *

" _What was that about?" Ingrid called, having followed him from the hall and into his quarters, pushing his door back open even after he tried to close it on her. His little outburst upstairs had gotten under her skin, and the beast blood coursing through her veins wasn't helping her temper._

" _You took the blood," Farkas replied, voice low. "After everything I told you, you still took the blood."_

 _Ingrid crossed her arms, kicking his door shut with the heel of her foot. Even with tensions this high, she knew this wasn't for public ears. "All that you told me was it was something for members of the circle. I'm part of the circle now, so I took the blood."_

 _His jaw visibly tensed and it was as though she could hear his blood pulse through his veins. She wondered if this was part of the gift. "Is that what you got out of it?" He asked her. "My complaints about sleepless nights and the hunger and the fight to control it, and that was what you heard? I may not be as smart as most people, but even I know a warning when I hear it."_

" _And what was I meant to do?" She growled, stepping towards him, her pulse ringing in her ears. She shouldn't have been this angry, but she was furious with him, and she was struggling to control herself. "Walk away? Turn down the circle? What would you have done, hmm?"_

" _I would have listened to my superiors and heeded their advice," he replied, his voice taking a growl of his own, stepping towards her in turn._

" _Superior?" She repeated, her voice simmering with rage now. It was all she could do to not grit her teeth. "What's that supposed to mean?"_

 _By now they were chest to chest, faces so close they were almost touching. It was a fight for dominance to see who would turn away first, who would retreat. But neither backed down, and both could hear eachother's hearts beating. "Watch it," he warned her. "You may be Dragonborn, but you're still a whelp."_

" _If you want a fight, I'll give you one," she hissed every muscle in her body tensing. "I'll show you who's the whelp."_

 _Without warning, he reached down and gripped the wrist of her shooting arm, pushing her by the opposite shoulder with his free hand until her back was against the wall. As soon as she made impact against it, he took her other wrist, pinning both above her head. "Get off me!" She barked, struggling as best she could, rage over taking her until she was kicking and writhing to the best of her ability to escape - but it was of little use. He'd pinned her arms too high for her to really get any traction or balance, each flail pulling on her shoulder joints and causing her enough pain to realise what he'd done. No matter how hard she tried, Ingrid couldn't deny that for all her skills and prowess, she was far outmatched by him when it came to physical strength._

" _This?" He began, pushing more force against her wrists until she was almost sure they'd break beneath his hands. "This is what the blood does. This is how you'll feel now for the rest of your life." He waited for her to slow down and stop struggling before he spoke again. "You'd better get used to it, because if you lose control even for a second, it'll be my responsibility to stop you. And there's only one way to stop someone when they go feral."_

 _Her face softened as the weight of this sunk in, and he eventually let her arms free. "I'm sorry," she exhaled, her voice shaking. He felt for her, of course. He could remember what it was like when he first took the blood, the first few moons, how emotionally charged they were. But he couldn't show her that, not after asserting his dominance. If she was going to be part of the pack, he had to make sure she knew her place within it._

 _But had never been very good at that. "Did I hurt you?" He asked, taking her wrist again and inspecting the redness that had blossomed over her pale skin. Vilkas had always chided him for that, for being too soft in pack matters. But he couldn't help it._

" _It's fine," she pulled her wrist from him, sliding out from between him and the wall._

 _A voice caused her to jump, the door creaking open with hesitation. "Everything okay in there?" Aela. Of course. "I could smell something." The door opened fully, and the expression on Aela said enough - she'd expected to see blood, at the very least. "Any trouble?" She asked, glancing between the two._

" _No," Ingrid shook her head and brushed past Aela in the doorway, making her exit. "Everything's fine. Excuse me."_

" _What have you done?" She heard Aela ask Farkas in a hushed whisper as she walked away._

" _What have I done?" His voice replied, not holding back, taking a less reserved tone with her. "What have you done? I pledged her, why wasn't I told?"_

 _The last thing Ingrid heard of the conversation was Aela giving a laugh and saying "because you would have refused." She opened the doors to the hall and heard no more. She wasn't sure she wanted to, anyway._


	3. Rabbit

"Caught dinner!"

Ingrid beamed with pride as she held the two rabbits above her head. She'd been hunting barely an hour, which she felt made up for the fact she had to ask Farkas to set up the tent for them. With enough effort she could usually set it up herself, but never quite properly. Often it would fall by morning, and the promise of sleeping in a well-made tent that night was too good to pass up based on her pride.

"A rabbit each," he assessed as she approached camp. "Good. I plan to have plenty of energy for those 7,000 steps tomorrow. Fire's ready to go."

She was quick to settle in and skin the rabbits. Dinner wouldn't be flavorful tonight, but it would be enough to fill their stomachs for the night, which was all she needed. "Good thing we decided to camp tonight," she said as speared one of the rabbits with a stick. "It gets freezing up there at night. Foot of the mountain is much warmer."

Farkas raised a brow as he laid out a bedroll in the tent. "I thought you liked the cold."

Shrugging, Ingrid laid the first rabbit over the fire, moving on the drive a stick through the second. "Certain kinds." She laid the second rabbit out and continued on. "The cold up on the mountain is this windy cold. It cuts like a blade. I hate it."

"What kind of cold _do_ you like, then?" He asked, moving to sit beside her by the fire.

"I like the cold in Windhelm," she explained, giving the first rabbit a turn. "It's dry. It feels more refreshing than anything."

He chuckled at this, looking into the fire. "So that's why you spend so much extra time in Windhelm."

Ingrid shrugged, moving on to the second rabbit. "It's good for my skin."

"I just thought you might have had a thing for a certain Jarl." He smirked immediately, well aware and entirely expecting the smack in the arm he received.

"Now you're just being mean," she laughed, watching the the rabbits slowly began to brown.

He laughed, shaking his head. "I'm just messing with you."

"You know," she began, looking up to the sky for a moment, "all this talk has been about me. What about _you,_ Farkas?" She caught his gaze with hers, mischievously grinning. "When are _you_ going to take a wife? You've got a long line to continue."

He shrugged, looking back into the fire. "I've got someone in mind." There was a small smile on his face as he said this, and Ingrid was almost insulted that this was the first she'd heard of it.

"What?" She asked, her eyes wide. "And you've kept this from me? _Shield-brother!_ " She scolded. "We aren't moving from this camp until you tell me about her. Farkas falling for a gentle lady type," she mocked. "You big softie. I _knew_ it!"

He reached up and scratched his shoulder. "Nah, she's anything but gentle," he corrected. "She's kind of scary, actually. If she says she'll do something, she always does it. Nothing stops her." He paused for a moment. "But the best thing about her is that she always does the right thing. If there's a decision to be made, you can always trust her with it."

"Oh, gods, it's Aela, isn't it?" Ingrid gave a long exhale. "Farkas, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Aela… subscribes to the Dunmer method, if you catch my meaning."

"Aela?" He gave a loud, singular laugh. "No, not Aela."

Satisfied with the first rabbit, Ingrid removed it from the fire, offering it to Farkas. "Well, she must be quite pretty to get your attention away from hitting things and knocking everything over," she teased.

"Oh yeah," he agreed, tearing a leg from the rabbit. "She's beautiful, alright. ...But it doesn't really matter." He took a bite from the leg, chewing for a moment before proceeding to continue with his mouth full. "I think she might be marrying someone else soon."

"We should kill him, whoever he is," she suggested matter-of-factly as she took her own rabbit off the fire. "I don't know who he is, but he sounds awful." She shot him a wink.

He shook his head at this. "It's good to know you're looking out for me."

"Whoever she is, I hope it works out." She tore some meat from the rabbit and inspected it. "The way you talk about her, it sounds like she's missing out on someone who really loves her."

He didn't respond to this, focusing on his dinner. The two spent the rest of the evening in relative silence, focusing on preparing for the next day's journey. Not long after the sun set, they agreed to sleep in shifts. Farkas would sleep first, and she'd keep guard on camp. She was used to the steps, after all. He'd need all the extra rest he could get.

Her quiver on her back and her bow by her side, she settled down beside the fire with her book. _The Dragon War,_ a book she'd found entirely by accident in Riften. Usually she wasn't one for stealing, but she was about to instigate a Dragon War herself, so _really_ , it was more like a donation to her. To help. That's what she'd told herself, anyway. She had to prepare for this at any cost. She had to win this. She couldn't fail, not after all the promises she'd made.

' _Dragons, being dragons, embraced their role as god-kings over men. After all, were they not fashioned in Akatosh's own image? Were they not superior in every way to the hordes of small, soft creatures that worshipped them? For dragons, power equals truth. They had the power, so therefore it must be truth...'_

Ingrid stopped reading when she realised she'd stopped paying attention to the words half way through the paragraph. Instead, she found herself distracted with trying to figure out who it was that Farkas was talking about. She struggled to think of anyone who was about to be married who fit the description. The only person _she_ knew who 'might be marrying someone else' soon was…

Her eyes widened and she glanced to the tent, where Farkas was sleeping peacefully. No. No, he couldn't… he wouldn't…

What happened next was almost as though it was beyond her control, as though her brain shut down as she shrugged her quiver off her back and on to the ground. Softly, she approached the tent, her heart racing, feeling immensely grateful that neither of them were still gifted with the beast blood, lest he hear her pulse from afar.

She entered the tent, kneeling beside him, watching him for a moment. Had it been this whole time? Had she really been that oblivious to it all? It all made so much sense to her now, and that scared her.

Regardless, her body worked automatically, leaning down to his face and gently taking his lips with hers. Long enough to make a statement, but quickly enough to wake him up. His eyes opened, still sleepy and confused as he came to realise who was hovering over him. "Ingrid?" He asked, striking her emotionally. He almost never called her by her name.

"I'm an idiot," was all she could manage before he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her against him to her surprise and kissing her with an intensity that made her entire body boil. She would have been lying if she said she'd never thought about this before, but she had completely ruled it out.

She reached out for the cover of her bedroll, pulling over to them so they could both fit as his hands fumbled at her armor. She began to assist, although she was as clumsy and frantic as he was, and the armor was tossed aside as though it were nothing. If anyone chose to attack them now, they'd be at the disadvantage to end all disadvantages - but that meant very little to her right now. For the first time since she'd done away with the beast within her, she could hear and feel his heart. All of a sudden, she realised how much she'd missed it.

* * *

"Did I hurt you?" He asked, noticing a developing red mark on her shoulder as she lay against his chest.

She laughed, a quiet laugh, soft and gentle. "You ask that a lot." Tilting her head upwards to face him, she smiled. "If I hadn't have liked it, you would have known. Trust me."

He leaned his head down to kiss her head. "I know, you can handle it, I know."

The two shared a brief silence before she spoke again. "It's a full moon," she whispered, peering out of the gap in the tent flap. "Can you imagine if we'd still had the gift?" She joked.

"Probably would have broken the tent, if not a limb or two," he chuckled before pausing, stroking her hair as he thought. "You felt it too, didn't you?"

She nodded against him, grazing her fingertips over his torso, tracing an array of different shapes. "Yeah. Like I still had it. Like the blood never left." She glanced back to the moon. "Do you ever miss it?"

He gave a content exhale. "All the time. I had it for so long that I felt lonely when it wasn't there anymore. But I like sleeping now. It's quiet, I don't keep waking up or tossing around."

"Can I ask how long you kept this to yourself?" She asked. "In case you hadn't worked it out, I can be pretty oblivious."

"I figured." He smirked and tightened his grip on her for a moment. "I knew I liked you after I saw you fight for the first time. You were as good as Aela, but quieter. Sneaky. I think the first time I actually wanted you was when we had that fight,though, after you took the blood." He frowned. "Maybe that was why I was so angry. Feelings snuck up on me."

"Then why didn't you ever say anything?" Ingrid re-positioned herself to lay on her stomach and lean on her arm so she could see him face to face.

He shrugged. "At first I just wasn't sure. Thought it might be the beast blood trying to find me a mate. And by the time I was cured and realized I still wanted you, you'd already turned down Vilkas. If he wasn't good enough for you, how could I-"

"Aht!" She hissed, putting her hand up to silence him. "Don't compare yourself to him. We've been through this."

"Sorry," he shook his head. "You're just so smart, and I figured you would have wanted someone as smart as you."

She leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his jaw. "First of all," she cooed, running her fingers through the hair above his temple, "I'm not that smart, I'm just very lucky. And second of all, book smarts aren't the only smarts. He may be able to list every battle Ysgramor fought, but does he know as much about the wilderness as you? Can he spot an enemy's injury a mile away so he knows where to strike?" She gave a wicked smirk, nestling her form against his. "I bet he doesn't know how to do what you did to me before." She delivered another kiss to him again, whispering as they pulled apart. "Maybe the Greybeards can wait another day. This is good."

"It is good," he agreed, his free hand drifting down to rest on the small of her back. "But there's a world to save, _Dovahkiin,_ " he teased.

Ingrid merely rolled her eyes in agreement. "Fine. But once this is over I'm spending the entire week in Breezehome and the only people I want to see are you and Lydia." She began to relax into him, still wide awake, her eyes fixated on the moon. "I don't think that's a lot to ask."

"I'll make sure of it," he said, following with a long exhale as his eyes shut and he let sleep finally take him. "I promise."

* * *

 _Note: This is going a place I promise_


	4. Ring

" _I thought I said the meeting was over," Ulfric growled at whoever had dared to linger in the doorway. He'd needed to be alone with his thoughts and Galmar's murderous, albeit spirited shouting about the matter at hand only served to stretch his patience tonight. Any other day it would have been welcome, but he'd just lost an entire camp to Imperials and he wasn't in the mood._

" _I-I'm sorry," a voice stammered, not the one he'd expected. "I Just thought you might have wanted a debriefing. I'll come back later._

 _Ulfric looked up from the map, but only momentarily to confirm that it was her, their Snow-Hammer, the one person that he thought could turn this war around. "Snow-Hammer," he called to her as she turned to leave. "It is fine. Come. I thought you were Galmar here to argue."_

" _The uniform doesn't make me look that big, does it?" She joked, approaching the table, a small smile on her face. Ulfric couldn't help but let a small smile escape in response before his eyes flickered to her once more._

" _You don't have to wear that, you know," he said. "You're the Dragonborn. If anything, it's good to have you stand out."_

 _She gave a shrug and offered him a roll of parchment. "It's better for morale this way. Daughter of Skyrim, all that." She waited for him to take the parchment before she continued, watching as he opened and began to read. "The Fort went down relatively quietly," she recounted. "None lost on our side, although we did have an archer step in a bear trap. He won't be joining us again in battle any time soon, but he gets to keep his leg."_

 _He gave a nod, setting down the parchment. "I wish more of my men brought me as much good news as you. You've done well, Snow-Hammer." His eyes travelled down to the map. "Perhaps it's time I let you lead where the bad news keeps coming from. Talos know I have failed them."_

" _My Jarl," she spoke, her voice softer than usual, a hint of hesitancy to it, "if I may speak freely with you?" Her tone had become so formal all of a sudden, something that immediately made Ulfric suspicious._

" _When have you ever not?" He asked, nodding his head in a gesture for her to continue._

 _Snow-Hammer paused, as if formulating a strategy within her head. "You didn't fail them. You gave them something to fight for, something to die for."_

" _Two hundred," he responded. "Dead, under my command."_

" _And now they're singing and drinking in Sovngarde," she assured him. "Would the Imperials have allowed them that glory? They gave their lives to free Skyrim."_

 _He mulled this over in silence, his gaze not moving from the map. Eventually, though, he gave a long exhale, finally looking up to get a good look at her. A true Nord, she was, strong and pale with straw-colored hair that sat in long braids. Galmar thought they were dangerous and told her to cut them off, but she refused. She was the image of a true daughter of Skyrim, which would make for many songs. "They never warned me the Dragonborn was so good with words."_

" _Sometimes there are situations that a bow can't get me out of," she replied dismissively. "I have to be prepared."_

" _Tell me, Dragonborn," he began, crossing his arms. "What really brought you here? If someone like you wishes to fight to free Skyrim, you need not join an army to do so. Yet here you are, the Dovahkiin, taking orders from me. Why?"_

 _For a moment, she hesitated. He thought she might try and skirt around the question. But their eyes locked, and it felt as though that weakened her resolve. "You were with me on the ride to Helgen," she explained, reaching up and tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Do you know why I was arrested?"_

" _No," he replied. "You never did tell me."_

" _My father refused to give up Talos - rightfully so," she added. "They executed him, and then I was found guilty by association. If the elk-hunter was worshipping Talos, obviously so was his daughter. I managed to run away for a while, but it wasn't long until they found me. I was stupid then, lighting campfires in plain sight." Snow-Hammer shrugged. "They wanted to make an example of my father and I, so I want Skyrim to make an example out of them for anyone who'd try the same. It wouldn't be Skyrim rising if I was doing this alone."_

 _Ulfric was silent, studying her expression. He'd heard stories about the Dragonborn, of course. Everyone had. That she was an escaped slave, a runaway noble, a reformed priestess. All of them mere rumor of course. But the woman who stood to the other side of the war table was different now, she wasn't just the Dragonborn anymore. She was an elk-hunter's daughter, a fierce commander and a real daughter of Skyrim. Someone even he could learn to follow. "You have my condolences."_

" _As do you."_

* * *

When she'd invited Farkas to High Hrothgar, she had expected the journey back to Whiterun to be a long and tired one. She hadn't, of course, accounted for the sight of Paarthurnax to apparently fill him with the energy of fifty men. Once they'd arrived, she'd sent him back to Jorrvaskr ahead of her, allowing him to get a head start on telling Vilkus all about the dragon thing. He'd been so excited that he practically _ran_.

As for her, all there was left to do was visit Breezehome, write a quick rejection letter to Ulfric and then carry on with her life. Now that Farkas was a part of it, there was no room for debate - she couldn't and wouldn't marry anyone else. She tried to format the letter in her head as she approached the small house. Maybe she would be blunt, or apologetic. No, not apologetic. She had nothing to apologise to. She would be curt, polite, and -

Ingrid opened the door and the air in her chest froze.

The living area was full of things she had definitely _not_ ordered herself. Bouquets of wildflowers, expensive and rare pelts, baskets of fruits and sweets and boxes which were reserved for jewellry. There was an obscene amount of finery, and in the center sat Lydia, looking quite bewildered.

"Please tell me these are for you," was all that Ingrid could manage as she closed the door behind her. "Please, Lydia, I'm begging you."

The housecarl merely shook her head. "I'm sorry, I tried to have them sent back but the couriers refused. They were afraid that the High King would shoot the messenger."

Her eyes still wide, she haphazardly hung her bow on the weapons rack. "And they're all definitely from Ulfric?"

Lydia silently rose, reaching out to the table and taking a sealed letter. "This came after the first three days of flowers, with the ring." She passed the letter to Ingrid, her expression grim as she watched her open it, the seal ripping off in her hands.

' _Stormblade,_

 _You must forgive my somewhat shallow attempts at winning your favor, I have been unsure how to proceed in this matter. I am sure you can understand that courting you is quite unusual territory. Most of these gifts were procured on Galmar's advice. He sometimes forgets you are not just a woman, but the Dragonborn. Please take up any issues with him._

 _There have been developments in Elisif's campaign. I have received word that she is planning to propose I wed her as a show of solidarity and commitment to peace. Considering the support she has already gathered for the moot, if I am without reason to reject her proposal, it will be seen as unreasonable and I will risk losing even more favor. Considering who she is, I had better have a damned good reason, too. If I were to accept, I would not only be at risk myself, but I would be risking the freedom of any sons she may give me. It would only be a matter of time before the witch killed me in my sleep and handed my sons to the Imperials to raise as a puppet._

 _I understand that I had given you more time to respond, and I will still honor that. However with these new developments, the more time we wait, the more momentum we will lose. I must implore you to accept, not just for Skyrim, but for myself. I have never been in a greater need of the Dragonborn than this moment._

 _Should you grace me with your acceptance, I ask that you wear this ring. I can guarantee that gossip of your engagement will travel a thousand times faster than any official announcements, and I have not a moment to spare._

 _May Talos guide you,_

 _Ulfric Stormcloak,  
Jarl of Windhelm.'_

She looked from the letter, gazing into the fire, cogs turning in her head as she tried to piece together her feelings on the matter.

"Well?" Lydia asked, an eyebrow raised.

"It's a betrothal ring," was all she could muster as she reached for the box, which sat on the bookshelf. She opened it, looking over the band inside. Silver. Tiny bears engraved into it. A small sapphire in the center. It was definitely a ring from a Stormcloak - exactly what he wanted it to look like for everyone. "Elisif is making a move. If he doesn't marry me, he'll have to marry her."

Lydia shrugged. "Is that so bad?"

"Not really." She set down the letter beside the box before removing the ring. She took a deep breath before decidedly sliding it over her finger - much to Lydia's visible horror. "But I know him, and I know he'd start another war and die before letting that happen. And if he dies, we lose the Stormcloaks, the Imperials come back and, well…"

"You can't possibly be accepting!" Lydia stuttered.

"If the Imperials regain power, even unofficially, I'm in trouble. I need military support," she explained.

Lydia scoffed. "Then get the Imperials to help you! You're the Dragonborn!"

"And I was also instrumental to Ulfric's rebellion. There's no way they'd give me any help," she gave a sigh. "And that's assuming they wouldn't hang me for treason." There was a long silence between the two before she spoke again. "I need you to write the Palace of Kings," she began, her voice cracking - not that Lydia would dare comment on it. "Tell Ulfric I accept his proposal and that I'm riding for Windhelm. I'll uh, leave tonight, if you could pack me some food that would be appreciated."

Lydia took a deep breath, noticeably quashing her temper. "Yes, my Thane. Where will you be in the meantime?"

"Jorrvaskr," she replied, turning and opening the door. "I have to deliver some bad news."

Without another word, Ingrid made her way through Whiterun, trying her best to maintain her composure, nodding to those who said hello, trying to let her expression convey that she was on business at the moment, The people of Whiterun were used to it, mostly, and knew that Ingrid in armor with a frown on her face was a busy Ingrid that didn't have time to gossip. On her way through the market she heard a whisper about her ring - Ulfric's plan was already working, and she barely had to do a thing.

She opened the doors of Jorrvaskr, her pace accelerating once she realised that she may be able to catch Farkas in private downstairs. As she rushed down the steps, all she could hope was that he was resting, or bathing, or _something._

But when she arrived to find his doors already open, she lost all hope of that. Just as she initially expected, Farkas was telling his brother all about the troll they fought on their journey, and the excitement on his face made her heart sink.

"Ingrid!" He laughed once he caught sight of her, beaming ear to ear. "Was just telling Vilkas about how you ended up shouting the troll off the side of the mountain."

"It seems you showed my brother quite the time," Vilkas commented, a knowing smile stretching out across his face. "He's speaking of you as though we haven't known you as long as we have."

Ingrid let out a nervous laugh and opened her mouth to try and ask Farkas away, but he spoke first. "Nothing gets past you, hey? I hope it's not awkward."

"Actually," Ingrid laughed, "I just stopped by to ask Farkas-"

"I always had a hunch, but there are no hard feelings. We are brothers, after all," Vilkas cut in. "although, I do wish I had known you were going to propose. I would have told Aela to hunt us a mammoth to celebrate!"

She could have sworn her heart began skipping beats when she saw the look of confusion on Farkas' face. "Propose?" he asked, glancing to her, "where did you get that idea?" It was like slow motion watching his eyes drop to her hand, taking in the sight of the ring she wore.

The stupid ring she should have taken off.

* * *

 _DUN DUN DUUUUN it only gets worse from here_


	5. Keeping Freedom

"So that's it?" Farkas asked, watching her as she finished re-stringing her bow. They'd adjourned to Breezehome, something Vilkas had suggested when their voices began to rise initially. This was never going to go smoothly, but at least now Ingrid could ruin everything in the privacy of her own home. "One letter and you're just going to do it?"

Sighing, she placed the bow on her lap. "Do you think I'm taking the easy way out? Really?" She watched him, expecting a response or a refusal, but nothing. She scoffed, shaking her head. "You do, don't you?"

"I just think there's got to be another way around this," he explained. "Instead of just marrying him for convenience."

" _Convenience?_ " Ingrid repeated, her eyes wide. "I'm sorry, what part of entering a high profile political marriage is convenient? Do you think I'll enjoy that? Do you think I look forward to pretending I want to be with him? To carrying his _children_ for nine months?"

He watched her carefully. "You could just, I dunno, kill Elisif."

Ingrid's jaw dropped open with bewilderment at what she was hearing. "You're suggesting I _kill_ the Jarl of Solitude? Sure," she gave a nod. "And then I'll just start a civil war and we'll all be back to square one again. It's not that simple, Farkas."

"Why can't it be?" He asked, watching as she stood from her seat, putting her bow into the holster on her back. She was ready to leave at any time, something which was apparent to Farkas. "You always do things the hard way."

"Because I'm the Dragonborn!" She snapped, "and when I don't do things the hard way, people _die!_ "

A silence settled between the two, the tension thick, Ingrid trying to recall when she started shouting. "I'm sorry," he finally spoke, a long exhale following. "I just… you know. Us."

"Yeah," she nodded, reaching up to scratch at the back of her neck, trying to avoid eye contact. "I'm sorry, too. I… I shouldn't have. You know, not until I knew if I was saying yes or no. I kinda pulled the rug out, huh?"

"No," he shook his head. "I should have just kept my mouth shut."

"Don't say that," she ordered, her face visibly softening.

Farkas stepped towards her, closing the gap between them. He took her hand in hers, running his fingers over the top and smiling. "I don't know what this means, I'm not that smart. But I'm glad you got to find out."

They were close now, and she hoped that he wouldn't see how misty her eyes were. Farkas had been one of her best friends since she stepped foot in Whiterun, but this new element to their relationship was overwhelming at best. "You don't hate me?"

"No, I couldn't." He raised his hand to cup the side of her face, closing the small distance between them to kiss her. This wasn't like their previous kisses, the spontaneous ones, passionate and full of tension and wanting, kisses shared in their tent or stolen around corners out of sight from the Greybeards. This was slow and long and soft. It was sad. It was on limited time. "You always do the right thing. I can trust you with these kind of decisions. It why I like you so much, remember?"

* * *

" _Please kill me, please."_

 _Farkas looked down at the heap of limbs that lay on the makeshift bed set up on the floor of the Undercroft. The Dragonborn had, apparently, not taken well to the beast blood. It was normal for this to happen, of course. They called it 'the breaking', the first few days after taking the blood, where your body adjusted to it. It would hit some more than others, of course, depending on the person. Farkas was young when he took the blood, and he was in agony for days. Aela, on the other hand, slept it off in the space of a single afternoon._

 _Perhaps that was why she was showing so little sympathy._

" _Good," the Huntress began, rising from her seat, "I was on my last nerve. She's been begging for death for hours now and I have half a mind to give it to her."_

 _Farkas watched as she passed them with not even a glance. "You're the one who did this to her," he growled, his frustration with Aela simmering as it had been since she'd given Ingrid the blood behind his back. It was her fault, the least she could do was keep watch without complaining._

" _She's Dragonborn," she called back as she walked away, "I thought she'd be made of something tougher."_

 _With a loud grind, the stone entrance to the Undercroft opened and closed, leaving Farkas to begin his shift keeping watch. The breaking was when a lot of their kind would turn feral, or just plain mad. Understandably. Vilkas likened the pain to having every bone in your body broken and twisted for hours on end._

" _Please," Ingrid choked again from the floor. "I'll do it. Just give me… give me something sharp and I'll do it."_

 _Part of Farkas still wanted to angry with her for this, for not turning it down. But he couldn't bring himself to be once he got a good look at her. She was three days in now and worse for the wear. She'd visibly lost weight, her cheekbones sharper than usual. Her hair was matted and clung to her face with sweat the same way the sweat caused her clothes to stick to her form. He hadn't seen her since they took her to the Undercroft when she complained of the first pains, he'd been on an assignment, and he hadn't known what to expect - but he hadn't ever imagined seeing her like this._

" _I don't think so," he finally relented, heading over to the crate of supplies set aside for her breaking and opening a potion bottle. "Come on, some of this and you'll be able to get some sleep."_

" _It doesn't work," she croaked._

 _He knew she wasn't exaggerating. He knew from experience that even the strongest they had didn't so much as take the edge off. But he also knew the power of placebo. "Just try this one," he said, turning to her and crouching down. "It's a special one. Bought it from some of the Khajit outside the gates."_

 _He watched her frown, even through the wet tendrils of hair that clung to her face. "Skooma?" She asked. He shook his head - although, actually, it was a good idea. He wish he'd thought of it. Run of the mill potions might not have done anything, but Skooma would at least make her forget that she was in pain in the first place. He lifted the bottle to her lips, gently tilting it so she could drink it. No, he couldn't give her Skooma, even if it would help. The last thing they needed was a werewolf with an addiction._

" _Not Skooma," he replied, watching carefully to make sure she was drinking it properly and sliding his free hand behind her head to support it. "Something special they make for women giving birth."_

 _He could see how exhausted she was clearly from here. Her eyes were completely bloodshot, and as he studied them he realised that he hadn't even noticed they'd changed in color. Her eyes had been a hazel color before, but now they were yellow, just like Aela's. She drank her blood, he supposed. "I'm just so tired," Ingrid whimpered, her eyes watering._

 _Farkas wanted to make a point out of this. He wanted to tell her this was part of the price she paid. He wanted to point out that he'd told her so. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. She was a smart woman - she'd probably already thought it herself. "I know," he sighed, moving some of the hair out of her face. "You'll get some sleep now, though."_

" _How long does this usually last?" she asked. Her whole body was shaking. Had Aela even given her something to eat?_

" _A couple of days." A lie. Vilkas' had lasted more than a week. But he was worried that any discouragement could send her feral at this stage. "You'll be through it soon, I bet. You're pretty tough."_

 _As if to prove him wrong, Ingrid's entire body gave a sudden shudder before stiffening completely, her back arching and her fingers balling into fists so hard that her knuckles turned white. Panicked, he grabbed at her, picking up her form and taking it into his arms to hold her steady, as though she were about to fall apart as she gave a howl of pain. Tears began to roll down from her eyes as he held her against him, partially to comfort her, but mostly to restrain her incase she went into convulsions the same way Vilkas had._

 _It took a few minutes, but eventually her limbs dropped and her shoulders drooped, Ingrid so lethargic from the pain that she couldn't pick herself up. In fact, she was so weak that he continued to hold her there, eventually settling down to sit on the floor with his back leaned against the wall, Ingrid propped up and leaning against him, her head on his shoulder._

" _I think it's kicking in now," she suddenly spoke, surprising him. "That stuff you gave me."_

 _He glanced downward, realising that she'd contorted in a way that had lifted her undershirt to reveal the space where her breast met her torso. He decided not to mention it. "I told you it was good," he assured her, carefully reaching to the hem of her undershirt and pulling it back down, restoring her modesty. "Try and sleep."_

 _She exhaled as her eyes fluttered closed, and with a simple "ok" she was out. Farkas couldn't believe that had worked, and felt like the smartest man in the world for thinking of it._

 _But even the smartest man in the world knew better than to move her off his shoulder._

* * *

Ingrid walked through the halls of the Palace with Ulfric, and although she'd stayed there as his guest many times before, she felt incredibly uncomfortable. "I know you have your own home in Windhelm," he said as he lead her through what sometimes felt like a cold, stone labyrinth to her, "but we've prepared lodgings for you in the Palace as well, as I am told is customary. There will be much to be done here, anyway, so I hope that it will be convenient for you at the least."

"As long as it's warm," she replied, trying to keep her own spirits up as he opened the door to what she assumed was her quarters.

It was definitely a step up from the regular guest rooms, the main differences being the large fireplace and the huge number of pelts decorating the room. "Don't worry, I saw to it that it was made as warm as possible for you. I know how much you hate the cold."

She shrugged at this as she stepped inside, gazing at her surroundings. "I don't _hate_ the cold," she explained as he closed the door behind him, "just certain types. ...But, thank you." She stopped short of thanking him for remembering - his annoyance at her vocal dislike of the harsher, wet cold during their travels was a source of contempt between them.

"The wedding will be a week from now," he began, cutting right to the chase. "A priest of Mara will be performing it in the Temple of Talos here." He paused, trying to read her expression. "I hope that suits you. I am unsure how you worship."

"That's fine," she replied with a gentle smile. She wasn't lying. She barely had time for worship these days, and it was more a matter of what temple was nearby when she needed it. While being marrying in the Temple of Talos was unusual, being married by a Mara priest was almost the standard. She suspected the location was for show and convenience more than anything.

He gave a nod. "Once things are settled you'll be welcomed to come and go as you please and live where you wish, I have no illusions about that," Ulfric explained, "but until then I'd ask that you lodge here once we are married. Word travels back to Elisif quickly, and her supporters will be seeking weakness, no doubt."

She shrugged, taking a seat by the fire, her legs tired from the ride. "That's an understandable request. When do you suppose things will settle down?"

"When you…" he paused, pursing his lips and closing his eyes in discomfort. "...When you provide me with an heir."

"Oh," Ingrid gave a surprised blink. "That's… uh…" she trailed off, unsure how to frame her words politely as Ulfric shifted from one foot to another.

"Uncomfortable, yes," he spoke, quietly. "This isn't going to be easy, Stormblade. For either of us. I owe you a great deal for agreeing to this."

"Ingrid," she corrected. "If we mean to make this seem genuine, you should call me by my name."

She watched him take this information in, frowning. "Ingrid," he repeated. "It will take some time for me to get used to." He cleared his throat before continuing, his composure somewhat regained. "I want to make it clear while we have time alone together that I have no intention of taking your freedoms. This is a great personal sacrifice you're making for Skyrim. If you wish to stay here and settle and be a kept woman, then I will see to it that you are. But if you wish to be the High Queen who roams Skyrim to find her glory in battles and adventure, I will not stop you."

Ingrid gave a sigh as though she were relieved, although she didn't know why. Ulfric knew her well, he knew she'd never resign to becoming a lady of court even if he tried to force her to, and Ingrid knew that. Why she was worried at all was beyond her. "Thank you, that's very generous and understanding of you." She paused for a moment, arranging her words. "...I wish to offer the same to you," she began, watching his expression. "I know this marriage has a purpose beyond… well, I mean to say it's not exactly _traditional_ in the way the Temple of Mara would explain it. We're marrying for Skyrim, not for ourselves. So I don't expect you to…" she looked upwards, searching for the word that wouldn't make it too crass. "I have no issue with you finding others to warm your bed."

He made an expression that she couldn't decipher for a moment before giving a decisive nod. "I extend the same to you. All I ask is you wait until after we have a child. I can't risk the legitimacy of an heir being called into question."

"Of course." Part of her was uncomfortable with the thought of even having a child, but all things considered, for once it was actually her duty and not just some old man telling her it was. With one child, Skyrim's independence would be more secure than ever. She was twenty one winters as well, which she'd been told time and time again by elders was the time to start. Perhaps, given her youth, it wouldn't be so bad. Then it would be back to adventuring and back to Farkas.

Her stomach gave a jolt. Would he even take her back? Even with Ulfric's blessing, Farkas could be fiercely territorial. Would he want her knowing she'd had someone else's child? She believed he was kind hearted enough to see past that, but she still found herself worrying all the same.

"Something troubling you?" Ulfric asked, causing Ingrid to realise she'd been sitting there in silence for far too long. She gave a blink, shifting in her seat.

"Just uh, wondering if I should bathe. Do you think there are any men in the bathing pools right now?" she lied.

At this, he gave a chuckle, shaking his head. "You're betrothed to the Jarl and will soon be High Queen, you don't bathe with everyone else," he nodded towards a second door in her quarters. "You have a private bath in there, I'll see to it that it is filled for you."

A nod of acknowledgement and he was gone, leaving her alone in her quarters. She ran an estimate through her head - two or so months to conceive, nine months to carry the child and another month or so to recover. That meant she only had to endure roughly a year. She could do that. A year to make sure Skyrim was free didn't seem like much in the grand scale of things. Although by then she supposed Farkas might lose interest, or meet someone else. She'd been to the tavern with him before, he was popular with women. It wouldn't take long.

After barely a moment's consideration, she rose from her chair and moved to desk, rummaging through the drawers for parchment and ink. Ingrid had a plan.


	6. Wedding Day

_Important: There is definitely sex in this and it is definitely written in a way that is supposed to make it uncomfortable as hell. You have been warned._

* * *

The week had passed quicker than Ingrid had anticipated it would. It had been a flurry of fittings and meetings with nobility and officials. In hindsight, though, she was pleased to be so busy. She'd heard no word from Farkas yet, and she didn't want to think about it.

She exhaled as Thali pulled the lacing at the back of her dress shut, longing for Lydia. Thali, the Nord assigned to assist her in Windhelm, was kind and sweet - if not a little young - but Ingrid couldn't talk to her the way she could to Lydia. Not yet, anyway. Trust was in short supply around here, although she hated thinking that way. She knew she _should_ trust Ulfric, after all, she'd trusted him with her life before and he'd done the same with her. But there was always that feeling lingering, the same feeling she'd get in Riften, the feeling that told her to watch her back.

"You look wonderful," Thali remarked as Ingrid watched herself in the mirror. She wasn't _wrong._ The dress was fitted, traditional, everything expected of a Nord bride about to marry the supposed future High King. Ingrid had never given much thought to what her wedding would be like - perhaps she had in her youth, but once she began hiding from the Imperials, her mind was focused elsewhere. This wasn't so bad, though. She just had to say some fancy words in the temple and then it would be an evening of drinking and eating as much as she could.

And then there'd be the bedding ceremony… Ingrid didn't want to think about that. Most smaller weddings for lowborns would skip it, but she knew traditionalism was Ulfric's favorite thing next to giving speeches and brooding on his throne. Besides, if they didn't adhere to the ceremony, someone could argue the marriage was void. That would be the last thing he wanted.

Thali reached up and placed the wedding crown on her head, a wreath of blue and white roses. It poked into her head a little, but Ingrid guessed this would be one of the less uncomfortable parts of the day. "Are you nervous?" Thali asked.

Ingrid shook her head. "No. Not at all." She watched as the handmaiden moved to the table, pouring a cup of wine for her. "I've done much scarier things than this, believe me."

"One of the serving girls told me she saw Queen- er," she quickly corrected herself, " _Lady_ Elisif in the hall earlier. This is such an affair," she handed Ingrid the cup as Ingrid sat in a nearby chair. "Although, I suppose it's the biggest wedding we might see in our lifetime, you being the Dragonborn and the Jarl being… you know." Thali gave a nervous smile as she watched Ingrid drink. "Everyone's here. All the Jarls, most of the highborns, even the Companions sent a few folk. Although, that's hardly surprising, you being their… leader… person."

Ingrid tried her best to not choke on her wine. "The Companions?" She asked. "You didn't happen to see who, did you?"

Thali shook her head. "'Fraid not, my Lady. I could go now and find out for you."

"No," Ingrid shook her head. "That's alright. I'm sure I'll see soon enough."

Thali nodded. "Well, I'm glad you're not nervous. The Jarl is a good man. He'll look after you. He does that, you know? Looks after his own."

"That's true." Ingrid watched Thali, amused with her nervousness. She was probably eighteen winters or so, although she couldn't be sure exactly how old. "Did you serve him before me?" Ingrid asked.

She shook her head, brushing a lock of her red hair behind her ear and giving Ingrid a flutter of jealousy - she'd _always_ wished for red hair. "Not directly," she replied, looking away, "but he's always good to the staff. One of the cooks lost her husband in the war, so the Jarl makes sure she's taken care of and her children are always clothed. That kind of thing, you know?"

Ingrid smiled at this. "I'm glad to hear that. He was always good to the men during the war, I'm happy to hear it extends past the military." There was a knock on the door suddenly. "Come in," Ingrid called, quickly throwing back the rest of her cup as Galmar entered.

"Well, Stormblade," he chuckled as she rose from her seat, Thali rushing to fetch her cloak, "if I'd known you could look this good, _I_ would have married you."

Thali placed the white cloak around Ingrid's shoulders, the soft fur around the collar brushing against her neck as she gave a snort of laughter. "In your dreams."

* * *

She slowly walked down the aisle, alone, and the size of the Temple of Talos suddenly dawned on her. Something about the sheer size of the interior and the height of the ceiling and arches made the eyes that settled on her all the more cold, as cold as the stone pillars that held it all together. The only music was a harp and drums, the same drums she'd heard in their war parties - deep, stirring, but doing nothing to quell the surprising amount of adrenalin she could feel building.

As she walked down the aisle she tried to glance at the faces she passed without actually turning her head. She could only really discern a few. The Gray-Manes had all made the journey - that much hardly surprised her. She caught Aela's red hair from the corner of her eye, and felt her stomach settle somewhat. She'd worried Farkas would have attended, which would have been near unbearable.

She'd been briefed on the ceremony and how it would go. Most of it would involve the priest speaking about marriage and Mara, then there'd be an exchanging of words and rings, and that would be it. Honestly, Ingrid's brain was moving so fast that before she knew it, the ring was on her finger. "Ladies and Gentlemen, it is my proud honor to present to these two as man and wife!" the Priest proclaimed, causing Ingrid to blink. She hadn't looked too flustered, had she? That entire ceremony seemed to just flash by her, she was so busy thinking about -

Just as she was coming to process what had already transpired, an arm looped around her waist. Ulfric pulled her against him, cradling the back of her head with his free hand as he kissed her. It was as though the breath was entirely sucked from her, her heart racing at a thousand miles an hour. She told herself it was entirely for show, that this was an act, but when he finally pulled away her face was burning red.

Ingrid lifted her hand to feel the heat from her cheek as Ulfric lead her back down the aisle, his arm still around her waist, guiding her with him. She glanced up at the guests, their smiles and applause indicating that they just might have bought the entire thing - until she noticed one person, and her heart sank.

The only person not smiling in the pews was Farkas.

* * *

She had never seen the great hall of the Palace of Kings so full, even after they'd won the war. The band played as many danced, others ate, and everyone drank. The atmosphere was infectious to the point where even Ingrid had loosened up, laughing and joking with those who came to greet her at the long table. She'd even danced with Galmar at one point, who was just as graceful as she had expected. Like a boulder with legs - but he made up for it with enthusiasm.

"If I may be candid," Ulfric began, leaning in to catch her ear, "you looked beautiful when you entered the temple, but it was during that dance with Galmar you captured many hearts tonight." He gave her a gentle smile. "I am glad you're enjoying yourself."

She smiled, glancing as she reached for her cup. "The wine has helped, I'll admit," she laughed, pausing to sip, "but the spirit in the room is… well, it's good to see everyone so happy."

He gave a nod. "It is a good trait, finding joy in the joy of others." He was silent for a moment before giving a light chuckle. "I have done well for myself, I think."

Ingrid opened her mouth to retort, but it was then that she caught sight of Farkas sitting beside Aela, who was in the midst of an arm-wrestling match with one of the Stormcloak generals. Their eyes met from across the hall and his face softened. "Uh," she cleared her throat, "if you'll excuse me for a moment, I believe Aela is about the break our General's arm and I just can't resist a good wager like that." She rose from her seat, but was interrupted by the unmistakable roaring voice of Galmar, who was now commanding the attention of everyone in the room as the band ceased to play.

"I believe, as Ulfric's right hand," Galmar began with a smirk as Ingrid sat back down with defeat, "it's my responsibility to thank everyone for coming to celebrate the union of the two most formidable warriors Skyrim has ever seen. With that," he raised his cup, sloshing almost half the contents over the edge in his drunkenness, "I propose a toast!" Galmar paused a moment, waiting for the guests to follow suit. To Ingrid's horror, even Farkas raised his drink. "To the happy couple! May their union strengthen Skyrim, and may they bring forth many sons!"

With a roar of laughter and shouting, the guests all drank, Galmar looking to the newlyweds and grinning ear to ear. Perhaps he was so drunk he'd forgotten the circumstances of the arrangement, or maybe he took some sick pleasure in their discomfort, but Ingrid immediately knew what was coming as he continued his address. "Speaking of bringing sons, I believe it's time for this union to become official! Let the bedding ceremony begin."

Ingrid looked around, panicked as an increasingly large crowd of people gathered around her. "Oh no," was all she managed to speak before someone lifted her, and a group of their guests began to carry her above them. She craned her neck to see if Ulfric was given the same treatment, and to her disappointment he was not being carried, only being subjected to the shouting crowd component of the evening as his men slapped him on the back and wished him luck. She was sure people were doing the same to her, but she could hardly hear over the cheering and laughing as the band began to play again, hands clapping to the rhythm as she was carried from the great hall and through the palace.

Honestly, if Ingrid hadn't drank half a bottle of wine to herself, she would have found this entirely unbearable. But in her state she decided the best way to handle it was to endure. Before she knew it they reached Ulfric's chambers, the doors opening before her and the crowd carrying her to the bed. With a loud cheer they gently tossed her onto the mattress, applauding as Ulfric's group decided to just _shove_ him onto it, probably afraid of the consequences of carrying him as they had to her.

With a few more minutes of lewd jeers and laughing, they were all soon gone, one of them even winking as the doors shut. Ingrid sat up immediately, suddenly very uncomfortable and unsure what to do with herself.

"We don't have to tonight," he spoke after a moment once the quiet had finally dawned on them. "I suspect today's events have been somewhat overwhelming. I would not expect it of you."

Ingrid glanced at him quickly, hardly surprised that he would offer her an out for tonight, but still grateful. "No," she shook her head. "We'll have to anyway, so it may as well start now, and gods know who might seek… well, I don't think you want to anyone evidence to suspect otherwise."

Ulfric gave a solemn nod. "You always have been rational, yet another trait you should be proud of… I was the envy of many men tonight, you know," he laughed. "Many congratulated me on finding such a good woman to marry."

"They only say that because they don't know me," she teased. "I'm just the Dragonborn to them, really."

"That is only one facet of it," he explained. "You were a sight to behold today, and the sound of your laughter was almost as pleasing as the music."

Ingrid couldn't help but roll her eyes, looking over to him. "Is this you trying to butter me up?" She laughed.

"It's more than flattery if it's the truth." With that, he made his move, leaning across and reaching to remove the crown from her head, placing back on the bedside table. "If I'd known I'd take such a woman as a wife, I would have started the rebellion earlier." He brushed an escaped lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers tracing slowly down to the nape of her neck.

"No, really," she started, studying his face, realising she'd never actually been this close to him before, "please stop. You're going to make me ill."

He laughed at this. "It was worth a try. I thought perhaps there was a maiden in there." Before she could voice her offence at this comment, he kissed her. It was gentler than she'd expected - not that she'd expected him to be boorish or anything, but it was almost as though he was deliberately being careful with her. Knowing what she had to do, though, she played into it, trying to lose herself it in but instead fighting the urge to go rigid when his hand travelled over her shoulder and down her back.

His fingers tugged at the tie of her dress, undoing it in one swift movement, showing his experience. Ingrid wondered how many women he'd been with. She'd heard rumors, but most men in power had talked up prowess. He hoped he didn't think she was a virgin. Surely he didn't. Surely Ulfric wasn't that stupid.

Deciding to get this over with, Ingrid began to remove the dress, loosening her bodice as he shrugged off his cloak. He began to assist her, pulling the dress down until she kicked herself out of it, leaving her exposed except for her lower small cloth. At least the room was warm and dark. She instinctively attempted to cover her breasts with one arm, trying to lift his shirt with the other, but he reached out and grabbed her wrist. "No," he murmured, reaching down and moving her arm, uncovering her. "I need to see." He glanced to her small cloth and she knew what he wanted - he wanted to see _all_ of her. Obliging, she removed them, noticing her hands were shaking ever so slightly as she put them aside.

They remained like that for a moment, Ingrid's heart racing as his eyes looked over her, drinking the sight of her in. Never in her life had she felt so out of place and uncomfortable, and for a moment she felt trapped. Was she regretting this? Would this be what it was like every time? Would she always feel this? She wasn't going to enjoy this very much, and even though she wished he wouldn't, either, she knew he _had_ to. Otherwise there'd be no child, and it would be for nothing.

He removed his own shirt, which Ingrid was thankful for because for the first time in her sexual history she found herself with no idea how to proceed. The rest of his clothes followed, and despite what was coming, she found herself unable to so much as _look_ at what was beneath his pants. "Here," he suddenly offered, moving from her and lifting the covers of the bed. "You are shaking. Maybe this will…" he trailed off as Ingrid gave a nod, crawling beneath them, feeling somewhat more relaxed beneath the weight of them. Was this feather down or fur, she wondered as he joined her, his hands slipping across her midsection and to the curve of her waist. He kissed her again, his lips eventually trailing down her neck as he climbed over her, her legs open to him. Bless him, she thought, for at least trying a little to make this pleasant for her.

She had expected him to cut to the chase, but instead drew her breath suddenly when she felt his fingers between her legs. They were cold, and despite her discomfort it felt good in her warmest place as he explored her, mapping out her intimacy as though he were planning a battle. Eventually he found it, although Ingrid wasn't sure if he'd have even known had her hips not automatically rolled against his touch. She may not have been entirely open to the idea, but her body seemed to be enjoying the experience.

He pressed the flat of his thumb against the spot slowly and gently moving it in circles. Ingrid had been so caught up in her thoughts of how awkward this all was that she barely noticed that her breath had began to quicken, her face beginning to flush as he sped up the movement. Closing her eyes, she gave a sigh, thanking the Divines or whoever else might be listening that at least he knew what he was doing. He continued his pulsing of her, watching her as she rolled her hips in response, eventually relenting and allowing herself to moan softly. At the very least, perhaps she'd come away from her wedding night satisfied.

However, as soon as she moaned, she noticed the absence of his touch, her eyes opening as she tried to figure out _why_ he would do that. It was then she felt him pressing against her now slickened entrance. Ingrid did her best to withhold a frown - now it all made sense. His eyes met hers, apparently making sure she was okay to proceed, the two exchanging a silent agreement. Once again surprising her with his gentleness, he entered her, Ingrid unable to help herself from cooing as he did so.

He began slowly and gently, something Ingrid was grateful for as the jokes shared amongst the men about his size weren't exaggerated. Once she relaxed, though, his pace became more consistent, taking a rhythm that was as old and practiced as life itself. Ingrid supposed that on a base level, it felt good, but she game to realise quickly that she was unlikely to find herself finishing on her own terms. Thus, it became her mission to help _him_ finish. The sooner she conceived, the sooner she could relax in knowing she never had to do this again.

She lifted her legs, allowing him to reach even deeper inside her as she released another moan, soft and breathy. She ran her fingers up the back of his neck, resting her hand in the nape as he fucked her, her breasts bouncing with his increasing force. She knew Ulfric would last long, but she hoped she could speed it up with the right sounds and touch. She licked her lips, parting them ever so gently as she moaned again, louder this time, but not forcefully so.

This continued on until Ingrid had a new idea. "Get on your back," she panted, her body weary despite her secret unenthusiasm. "I want to-"

"No," he grunted.

She frowned, but suddenly gave a surprised gasp as he hardened his force once again. "You're right," she said with a breathy laugh. "I want you to take me from behind."

"N-No," he grunted once more, reaching under her leg to lift it higher and give himself more leverage.

"Why not?" She asked, frustrated suddenly.

He gritted his teeth and she realised that he was close. It was almost over. But before she could return to her cooing persona again, he spoke. "Your face," he stuttered, speeding up, the entire bed frame creaking beneath them.

"Wha- ah!" She threw her head back, his sudden and hard thrusts taking her by surprise, and even feeling quite pleasureable.

"My name," he panted, urgency in his voice. "Say my name."

She raised her eyebrow. Was that what it would have taken the entire time? "Ulfric," she moaned, only for him to shake his head.

"Like you love me."

Her eyes widened at this, and in any other situation she would have visibly reacted in shock or even disgust. What in Oblivion was _that_ about? However, her body made itself clear - she was tired, her legs ached by now, and she wanted this to finish. Her pride meant very little right now. Ingrid used the hand behind his neck to pull him down to her, leaning up to meet him halfway until her lips could brush against his ear.

"Ulfric," she whispered, so gently, so softly that her voice quivered.

With that, he buried his face in her shoulder, giving a loud grunt and losing himself in that moment, his hands balling up into fists where they braced against the sheets as he spent himself, filling her with what she hoped to the Divines would result in a child.

He rolled off her and she remained where she lay, not wanting to move at all for fear of doing anything to lessen her chances of conceiving. It was all she could do to not laugh - if you'd told her even two months ago that she'd be _trying_ to conceive after sex, she would have laughed herself into a stupor. Yet here she was, praying and hoping that something would take.

"Are you alright?" He asked her after several minutes, much to her surprise. She'd entirely expected him to just roll over and fall asleep - or even get up and _leave._ "Is there anything you need?" He was trying to hide the fact he was still out of breath, but was failing spectacularly.

"No," she replied, her voice quiet, realizing how dry her throat was. "Or uh, water, perhaps. But I'm okay. Thank you."

He pulled himself up, reaching for the jug on the bedside table and pouring some into a cup for her as she sat up herself. "This is only temporary," he assured her as he handed her the cup. "Until you are with child. I wish I could say this time would be all that is necessary, but…"

She wiped her mouth once she'd swallowed a mouthful, shaking her head. "No, you need an heir for Skryim," she assured him. "I didn't come this far to lose our freedom over…"

"I understand," he interjected, "and I am grateful." He gazed into the fire in thought, and the two were silent for a few moments. Ingrid began to feel the weight of her eyelids, her body demanding sleep.

"I'm quite tired," she announced with a sigh. "I hope you don't mind if I sleep?"

Ulfric chuckled as she wiggled down into the bed, further beneath the covers. "I do not require a second turn, if that's what you're asking." He glanced to her, smirking at her face of disgust. "Rest well. You have earned it."

"Damned straight," she mumbled, already drifting off against the soft pillows. Being a Jarl had its advantages, apparently.

"When this is over," he said as she felt herself fade into sleep, "and you give me a child... you will be free."

* * *

 _I AM SO BAD AT WRITING SEX ARGGH_


	7. A Thing

Ulfric was gone when she was awoken by a senior looking lady-in-waiting the next morning, which was as much as she'd expected. The senior woman's name was Breja, and she seemed to have one purpose beneath her expected duties - making sure the marriage was consummated. Breja saw to it that Ingrid was dressed, showed her to a plate of cheese that had been prepared for her on the table, and then promptly checked the sheets.

Ingrid watched as Breja threw back the thick covers of the bed, looking over the sheet beneath in the sunlight. There was an urgency to the woman's movements, and Ingrid wondered if it was because her job was an important one or just for the sake of gossip. Breja came to a pause, no doubt finding some kind of unpleasantness left behind from their wedding night, before gathering the sheets to take them to the laundry, her disposition calmer now. As she passed Ingrid, she gave her a final glance before leaving her alone in the room, one that felt slightly judgemental. Ingrid raised an eyebrow as she took a bite of a cheese slice - if that old bat had expected to see blood, she didn't know what to tell her, honestly.

It became apparent once Ingrid had finished her cheese plate that Breja wasn't going to come back, and she found herself a little overwhelmed with the freedom to do as she pleased for the first time in nearly two weeks. In all honesty, Ingrid just wanted to send someone to run her bath for her and then follow it up with a nap in her own bed, but it wasn't long until she remembered Farkas was here. Somewhere. If he hadn't already left.

Pulling on some boots that had been set out for her, Ingrid set off through the palace, trying her best to put on her 'business' face. She didn't really want to talk to anyone right now, especially considering it was the day after her wedding and they'd all be assuming she'd lost her virginity, even though that was already long gone. Luckily for her, though, spare for a few nods and smiles of acknowledgement she managed to make it to the hall, uninterrupted. Jorleif was, sure enough, at the long table, but Ulfric was nowhere to be seen.

"Morning, Jorleif," Ingrid began, grabbing his attention as she came to stand beside him.

"Morning?" He repeated, smiling. "It's almost afternoon, Stormblade. Uh," he frowned, "I mean, _My Lady._ You must forgive me."

She shook her head. "No need to apologise. I was wondering if you could tell me the whereabouts of some of our guests - the Companions. I need to speak with them."

"Ah, yes," he recalled. "That Aela certainly gave our men a run around… they've just left, actually… although," he continued, noting the disappointment on her face, "she _did_ mention stopping by the stables to repair her saddle, perhaps if you hurry-"

"Thankyou!" She blurted over the top of the steward, sprinting towards the doors and pushing her way outside. She was without a cloak or the right clothing for the outside cold, but she didn't exactly have time to change. Running as fast as she could through Windhelm, Ingrid willed herself to ignore the townspeople who tried to stop her. She'd apologise later, but right now there was a matter of urgency. As she crossed the stone bridge, she slipped on one of the icy stones, stumbling straight into a guard, who managed to catch her. "Thank you!" was all she managed to call as she continued running towards the stables. Just a little further.

Without second thought, she threw herself against the door of the stable-house, opening it and stumbling inside. "Farkas?" She gasped, looking around and only seeing a bewildered Aela and Ulundil. "Is he here?"

"Well, nice to see you too," Aela replied, eyebrow raised.

" _Aela,_ " she warned.

The archer rolled her eyes, making Ingrid question how much she actually knew - although now wasn't the time to ask. "He went ahead without me, probably… oh... ten minutes ago?"

Without a second thought, Ingrid opened the door again. "Borrowing a horse, send the bill to my husband!" The last thing she heard before the door closed behind her was Aela's laughter.

Ingrid jumped on the first horse she found with a saddle and kicked into its sides, galloping down the path into the wilderness. He surely couldn't have gotten too far. She hoped he hadn't. She was wearing leisure clothing and was totally unarmed right now. The cold was cutting into her skin like ice, her fingers stinging in the cold wind, but she had to catch him now, because she was terrified he'd never come back.

To her relief, eventually she did come upon him down the trail. "Farkas!" She called, her breath visible in front of her. "Wait!" When he turned to see her, his eyes widened, turning his horse almost immediately to meet her.

"What are you doing?" He asked, dismounting and approaching her once she game to a stop, Ingrid following suit. "I thought you'd-"

She didn't wait to see if anyone was looking or to see what he'd say, grabbing him by his furs and pulling herself against him, kissing him deeply and urgently, pleased when she felt his hands take her around her waist before snaking to her back.

"You're freezing," he remarked once she pulled away from him. He was right. She hadn't noticed during her ride, but she was shivering against him, her teeth chattering. "Here," Farkas reached to his shoulders, removing his furs and draping them over her.

"Why did you leave?" She asked. "You left without seeing me."

He gave a shrug. "Didn't want to interrupt your honeymoon. Besides, you two looked sort of happy at your wedding. Didn't want to get in the way."

"Farkas," she mumbled under her breath, shaking her head, her palm rested against his chest. "No, there's… there's nothing there. Not like that. He's… we've actually agreed on…" she paused, trying to word this differently. "We've agreed that we can take lovers, if it makes us happy."

"Really?" He asked, surprised. "Never heard of that kind of agreement before."

Ingrid shrugged, her body relaxing under the warmth of the furs. "Well, it's not the most conventional marriage in the first place… Farkas, stay," she caught his gaze with hers. "I'll make you my Housecarl. We can keep exploring Skyrim together and it'll be just like it's always been."

He smiled at her smoothing her hair over before leaning down to kiss her brow. "Good thing you caught up with me. Saved me having to read this in a letter and come _all the way back_."

"There's uh, just, one thing," Ingrid began to stammer a little, her face suddenly feeling flushed. "We can't… um. We can't…" she took a deep breath. "We can't… _couple_ until I've given Ulfric a child." She watched his expression turn from a soft one to one of confusion. "It's just so he won't question the legitimacy of the child. We can't risk it, Farkas." Ingrid paused. "I've given up too much already to mess this up."

"This will be hard for me, you know," he exhaled. "Seeing you carry someone else's child. Not… not being with you until then…"

Ingrid felt her shoulders drop. "I understand if it's too much. It's a lot to ask."

"Did I say no?" He asked. With that, he effortlessly lifted her by the waist, settling her onto the back of his horse. "What's a little more waiting?" He climbed up behind her, taking the reins with arms either side of her, her back against his chest as he directed the horse back to Windhelm, whistling to call the one she'd borrowed to follow. "Come on, I'm no good Housecarl if I let you freeze."

* * *

When they arrived back at the Palace, Ulfric was back on his throne, immediately straightening up in attention at the sight of them. "There you are," he exclaimed, rising from the throne and rushing to her. For a moment, Ingrid expected him to explode at her in rage for leaving so suddenly and returning to his court with another man. Instead, though, he took her shoulders in his hands and looked over her, his face soft, almost as though he'd been worried. "Are you okay? Jorleif told me that you'd just charged outside in your chamber clothes and I thought you'd gotten cold feet. I was about to send a search party."

"I'm fine," she explained. "I actually just went to find Farkas before he left."

For the first time since they'd entered, Ulfric actually acknowledged Farkas. "I must thank you for returning my wife safely. I'll see to it that you're compensated as to show my gratitude."

"I'm making Farkas my Housecarl," she announced suddenly. "He has been by my side for a long time as a member of the Companions. I've trusted him with my life many times before."

Ulfric stepped back, looking Farkas up and down, sizing him up and assessing him as a threat - which, to be fair, was standard procedure for Ulfric whenever he met someone new. "I see," he mused with a nod. "And you are aware of how much greater this responsibility will become once she is High Queen?" Ulfric asked him.

Unmoving and showing not even the slightest hint of intimidation, Farkas gave a singular nod. "I've been protecting her since she was named Dragonborn," he replied, "whatever the nobles send doesn't scare me."

"So be it," Ulfric announced with a grunt. "One less thing to worry about before the moot." He looked to Ingrid next. "It will take place in the next two months - I hope you'll be prepared by then."

"Prepared?" Ingrid repeated. "What do you mean?"

Ulfric turned and began moving back to his throne. "You will need to be ready to argue in my name, to convince the Jarls that I am the right choice." He paused to sit down, lounging about as usual as Ingrid followed, standing before him, her fingers still clutching the furs that Farkas had given her. "And with any luck, you'll be with child by then."

It took everything she could to not glance at Farkas, to gauge his reaction - but he remained silent. "Yes, well, I…" she blinked, gathering her composure. "If you'll excuse me, I'll change into some more appropriate clothes and show Farkas to Hjerim."

"I don't like him," Farkas announced as soon as they were in the privacy of Hjerim, causing Ingrid to laugh immediately as she closed the door behind them.

She smiled at him, making a beeline for the hearth, noting immediately how cold it was in there. "You don't have to," she laughed. "You're not married to him."

Ingrid reached for the fire-lighters and began to strike away at the flint as Farkas crossed his arms, frowning deeply. "I'm serious. He's arrogant."

"You don't have to tell me that twice," she snorted.

"And he treats you like a 'thing.' I don't like that." He watched as she blew on the embers, the fire eventually catching after not much effort. After all of her travelling, she was convinced that she could light a fire in just about any conditions - the hearth in her own home was without challenge for her now. "Do _you_ like him?" Farkas asked.

She shrugged. "At first we butted heads, but after a while I started to respect him." She turned to him, shrugging off her cloak to hang it. "I don't love him, if that's what you're asking. Honestly, after last night I don't even really like looking at him." Ingrid shook her head. "Anyway, come on, I'll show you around." She led him up the stairs, deciding to work her way out of the house. "Bedrooms are here, you can sleep in the master. You may as well. This home is as good as yours until I get my freedom back," she laughed, showing him to the small room decorated with weapons. "This is the armory," she explained. "It's small, but it's… well, it _was_ my pride and joy, anyway. Feel free to use the smithing tools or woodwork bench. There's no grindstone, though, but you can use the one in the market."

" _Was?_ " He repeated, his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. "What do you mean? I've seen how you collect weapons, what changed?"

"I fought a war," she replied, a certain bluntness to her voice. "Now they're just things. Things worth a lot of coin, mind you, but they're still just things." She ran her fingers over the decorated hilt of an ancient nord blade she'd picked up somewhere, tracing over the ornamental carvings. "Losing men is a part of war, but it didn't make it feel any better. You'd have these people follow you into battle, trusting their lives to you, and then... " she exhaled. It was probably one of the few things that her and Ulfric had agreed on initially, in fact, it was what broke down the initial animosity between them.

"It's not your fault," Farkas said, reaching out to brush a lock of hair out of her face.

With a smile, she took the hand, holding it against the side of her face. "I know," she assured him, her voice quiet. "It's still hard, though. I mean, it made me think about who else I could lose. I don't even know what I'd do if I lost you."

He stepped towards her, leaning down to kiss her with such gentleness that she melted into his touch, as though it were the most comfortable thing in the world for her. It wasn't long though until something awoke within her, the same feeling as before, the one they'd likened to the beast blood. The hunger, the fire within her that wanted nothing but more of him. Farkas was feeling it too, judging by the way he deepened the kiss, by how his free hand pulled her body firmly against his. Ingrid's hands slipped up to the back of his neck, encouraging him to continue, their breathing deepening.

It was when she felt his hand wander lower and lower that she quickly pushed away. "Farkas," she whispered. "We can't. Not yet."

He frowned, giving a long exhale, a growl rising from deep within his throat that only served to stir her more. "This may be the death of me," he grumbled as she ran her fingers over his cheek.

"All the more worth the wait, then?" She joked, resting her head against his chest as he took her into an embrace.

* * *

Ulfric had agreed to assist her trap Odahviing, but insisted that he was only allowing it as time was imperative. Ingrid was pretty sure that he was only _saying_ that, though. If she hadn't needed the military support, she wouldn't have even asked his permission, and he knew that perfectly well.

It had taken much planning, even before the wedding it had been in the works with the Jarl and herself. The final arrangements were mostly to do with the contingency plan: in the event that the trap failed and the dragon attacked Whiterun, Ingrid would stay and fight Odahviing and Farkas would evacuate the city. They'd argued about that, numerous times, but she wouldn't budge on it. Ingrid was the only one who could take on Odahviing, and even if she died, she'd be able to buy enough time to get everyone out safely. She'd assured him it would be nothing to worry about, though. The plan was going to work. It had to.

But this? This was different to the arguments about who would stay and who would go if the plan failed. It was barely an argument, really. She watched in silence as Farkas slammed the wall the Dragonsreach armory with his fist, her heart arching. He wasn't mad at her, she knew that. He was frustrated that she had to go alone.

"And he expects you to go alone?" He asked for what must have been the third time. "To Sovngarde?"

"Yes," she said with a nod. She watched as he raised his hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose and exhaling, trying to process this. "I'd take you with me if I could, Farkas, believe me. But he won't budge. I've tried."

He glanced at her, his eyes widening a little. "You've spoken to him again?" He asked. "And what about your return? Can he guarantee it?"

Ingrid didn't answer right away. She didn't need to. The way she looked away from him said enough. "He can't guarantee it, no. He… seems to know as much as we do in that regard."

Farkas shook his head, sitting down on a seat with a thud, his head in his hands. "There's no point in asking you not to go," he conceded. "So I won't waste our time."

"It's my destiny," Ingrid replied, approaching him and running her fingers through his hair. "It's all so much bigger than me."

"Does it scare you?" He asked her.

She wanted to tell him the truth, that she was terrified by it. Skyrim, it's people, _everything_ was her responsibility to protect and she'd never even had a say in it. But she couldn't let him know she was afraid. She had to be strong right now, she couldn't let on how scary this all was, not to anyone. "No," she whispered, "this is what I'm meant for. It's my calling - and now's my time to answer. I can't promise I'll come back," she began, leaning down to be on his eye level, catching his gaze, a soft smile on her face, "but I can promise you that Alduin will be dead when I'm finished."

He smiled at this, seeing some humor in her pretend-bullheadedness, and reached out to take her face in his hands. "If you have to stay there, wait for me," he said with a kiss. "Promise?"

"I promise." They kissed again, Ingrid doing everything in her power to hold back the tears she could feel welling in her eyes right now. She put her palms to his chest and didn't get go. She couldn't let go. She was scared to, knowing the moment she did that she'd have to face her calling. What if she didn't come back? What if these were their last moments? She slid onto his lap, straddling him, their kisses deepening, the fear and anger and emotions all beginning to bubble up within them as they began gripping at eachother.

He moved his lips down her neck, her breathing ragged, her blood boiling. For a moment she thought of the promise she made to Ulfric, but that was before she was called to Sovngarde. She wondered if he'd be upset if she never returned or if he'd be more upset by the setback in gaining an heir. She couldn't bring herself to care right now, her fingers tangling in Farkas' hair, her hips rocking against him in want.

Farkus let out a low growl from his throat and slid his hands under her thighs, lifting her as he stood and placing her on the nearby workbench, knocking some kind of woodwork tool off in the process. "What if someone-" he cut off her protest with a kiss as his hands worked at her lower armor. Apparently, he didn't care if anyone were to walk in. Honestly? Neither did she.

As soon as enough armor and cloth was out of the way, it was obvious she was ready for him as he was for her, neither of them really wanting to wait any longer. He pushed into her, the height of the worktable perfect to take her like this as she whimpered into his shoulder. As they found their rhythm it became like a game to try and muffle each other's moans with the other's mouth, but it wasn't long until they were lost in the moment once again, as they did the other times, that beastial fire taking over within both of them, making her growl through gritted teeth.

The growl was a cue for him, letting him know it was okay to let the primal lingering of the curse within them take control, his hand reaching for her hair and pulling it with a yank as he thrust into her, eliciting a gasp from her and leaving her neck exposed. He eyed it, unsure if he should go ahead with what he longed to do, but almost as though they shared one mind, she spoke. "Do it," she whimpered, "mark me," she paused to give another moan, "please."

He wasn't about to argue, and took that delicate, white skin he'd lusted for helplessly for so long in his teeth, biting gently at first before working his way up to what made her growl in the way that made him want nothing more than to bend her over the table and take her like an animal. He considered it greatly, but something was different about this time. He wanted to be near her, he wanted to see her face, as though it would be the last time.

He released her from his mouth, the clanking of their armor becoming louder as his pace quickened, her nails digging into the back of his neck hard enough to draw blood as she clung to him. "Farkas," she gasped before losing herself, trying her best to muffle her low, guttural cry of release in his shoulder as her hips bucked against him, her legs tightening around him until he joined her, gasping for air and holding onto her for dear life.

It had been quick, yet the intensity left his legs feeling weak and her body quivering against his. Eventually she sighed, brushing her lips against his ear. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too," he replied, taking her head in his hands and bringing it to his, leaning their brows against each other, their noses touching. "Always have."


	8. The Return

_Short chapter this time, sorry. But you know, suspense. All that jazz._

* * *

She'd made it back from Sovngarde in one piece, having stumbled into a nearby farmhouse, the family of which sent for help. Her left hand was broken, the entire right side of her body was burned from the shoulder down and her leg had been gashed open by Alduin's claws so badly that there'd been talk of her losing it at first - but she was alive and had somehow made it from the Throat of the World to that farmhouse by herself.

Although Farkas didn't like seeing her so injured, he thought little of it once he knew she'd survive. Ulfric, however, seemed much more distressed by her condition - something Farkas seemed to take a strange humor in. "I know the Dragonborn," he chuckled as Ulfric watched a healer salve her severely burnt right arm, "as long as she doesn't die, she'll be fine. And she's looking pretty alive to me." Farkas shot her a smile, although Ingrid didn't return it, her eyes thinning.

"I don't _feel_ it," she hissed through the sting of the salve, "but he's right, Ulfric. I made it back from Sovngarde alive. I don't think we could ask for much more."

Ulfric glanced between the two. "You should have consulted me," he grumbled, his arms crossed.

Ingrid rolled her eyes at this. "You never would have allowed it, and I didn't have a choice." She glanced at the healer as she finished with the salve. "I'm alive, Alduin's days are done, Skyrim is safe. My destiny has been met."

"Not yet," Ulfric added. "There is still more for you to do." He exhaled as the healer lifted the sheet to examine her leg, which had healed well but still looked somewhat gruesome. "This will hinder our progress somewhat."

"Pardon?" Ingrid asked. "I'm sorry, how rude of me to not set aside time to attempt to conceive while I was _fighting the World Eater in Sovngarde._ I'll keep that in mind next time."

The Jarl's face turned dark, something that would have worried Ingrid had she not been in so much pain. "I'll allow such insolence to slide because I know you are in a great deal of discomfort."

Unmoving and steely, Ingrid's expression could cut like a knife at this stage. "Insolence?" She repeated. "I'm not one of your soldiers to be ordered around anymore, Ulfric. I am your _wife_."

"That much is obvious. None of my soldiers would dare cause as much trouble as you do," he growled back, the mood in the room plummeting so quickly that the healer's eyes were darting back and forth between the two.

"Get out," Ingrid hissed at him through gritted teeth, a total, all covering silence following. Eventually, Ulfric shifted from one foot to another before turning his back on her.

"I will return once you have remembered how to control your emotions," he jibed as he stormed out, slamming the door to her chambers behind him, the healer blinking in a stunned silence before continuing to see to Ingrid's legs, her hands trembling somewhat.

"I'm sorry about my husband," she said to the healer. "The pressures of the moot are getting to him." A lie, of course. Ingrid was so sure that he was confident he'd become High King that anything further that they did as husband and wife was a mere formality.

The healer glanced up to her. She wasn't a Nord as most of the staff were in the palace, but a Redguard, making her wonder how much she'd had to prove herself to come into such a position. "Think nothing of it," the Redguard commented as she re-bandaged her leg. "Please do send for me if you need help conceiving," she offered with a smile. "There are many ways, most of them very simple. Teas and things." The healer eyed Thali when she entered. "Send for some snowberries, nirnroot and red mountain flowers," she instructed the handmaiden. "Steep them in boiling water for half an hour and then serve them to the Lady as a tea. She'll be with child in no time."

Ingrid raised an eyebrow. "Thank you so much," she laughed, "we've been trying only for a short while, but I'll definitely try that."

"I'll see to it right now," Thali announced, seemingly quite excited about the concept. Too excited. Ingrid would have thought this suspicious had she not noticed the red mark in the crook of the handmaiden's shoulder, right where her neck began. She smiled to herself as Thali slipped out of the room, no doubt to run off to the kitchens as the healer finished her work.

Once the healer excused herself, Ingrid and Farkas were finally alone, Farkas closing the door and allowing them some privacy. "What are you smiling about?" he asked, taking note of her expression. Ingrid chuckled to herself.

"I think my handmaiden has been a busy young lady," she replied, "if that love mark on her neck is anything to go by."

"Thali?" Farkas asked, crossing his arms. "Now that you mention it, she's… well, she's definitely had that look in her eyes the last few days. Wonder who it is?"

* * *

When Ingrid was finally able to return to Ulfric's bed, little changed, although he was painfully careful with her to the point where she got no enjoyment out of the experience. She was, however, grateful. Her wounds were still delicate and to lay with him any other way than what had become standard for them would cause her immense pain.

He'd summoned her three nights in a row now, something she assumed he did to make up for lost time. She knew he wouldn't give up until she was with child, but even she was impressed with his stamina at his age. In another life, perhaps, she could have gotten used to this. She lay on her back, the evening finished. Usually she'd wait until he fell asleep before dressing herself and hobbling back to her own chambers, and usually he wouldn't say a word beyond checking if he'd hurt her or if she wanted anything. But tonight, he surprised her.

"What was Sovngarde like?" he asked after a long period of silence, the fire crackling. "Is it as the songs say?"

She looked to him, studying his expression as he stared into the fire, soon turning her own gaze into the flames. "As they say and more. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. The sky is nothing but lights, and they're so close you could probably reach out and touch them."

"And the Hall of Valor?" He asked.

"It's the largest hall I've ever seen," she replied with a smile. "I saw many of our own men there, singing and drinking. They were happy."

He exhaled, shifting a little. "It must have been comforting."

Ingrid gave a nod, glancing to him once more. "It was. I hope I end up there when my time is up."

"You will."

"And so will you." As she said this, she shifted in the bed, wondering if she should just get dressed and leave now. But he spoke again, stopping her.

"I have been… difficult lately," he began, speaking slowly.

Ingrid gave a surprised blink. "It's…" she stammered, "it's fine. You've been under stress." She didn't mean this, of course. He'd been terrible and there'd been little excuse for it, but she wanted to keep things amicable as long as she had to share a bed with him - which hopefully would be over soon if the tea she'd been drinking for the last few days did its job and helped her conceive.

Ulfric slowly shook his head. "No, it is no excuse," he insisted. "You are my wife, and I have not treated you as I should have. I will make this up to you."

"Honestly, you really don't have to," Ingrid shrugged. "This was never going to be easy."

"I don't want you to think I begrudge this marriage," Ulfric began, his eyes still fixated on the flames. "In fact, it pleases me to be able to have you as a wife. It's certainly something worth boasting." He finally looked at her, giving her a small smile. "I will make the effort to show you more kindness…" he trailed off, looking back into the fire. "I have a small request, though. Would you remain here tonight?" He asked. "It would be comforting to wake up beside my wife, especially after you journeyed to Sovngarde."

As deeply surprised by this as she was, Ingrid couldn't bring herself to question it. She couldn't help but wonder what kind of comfort he meant, exactly. Was it pride? Was he proud to be married to her? Or, as unfathomable as it was to her at the moment, had he worried about her? No, he couldn't possibly be. Not beyond anything superficial. She gave a nod, not knowing exactly what to say, instead laying back down and turning her back to him, her eyes closed, hoping to sleep soon.

"Thankyou," was the last thing she heard him say before she finally fell asleep.

* * *

Ingrid made her way through the halls of the palace, exhausted. Why she was so tired she didn't know - she had fallen asleep relatively quickly the evening before, and woken up barely before the afternoon the next day, Ulfric still beside her. He'd waited for her to wake up, something she assumed was to help better pass them off as a genuine couple to observers.

But even after a morning meal, she didn't feel right. Perhaps she was sick? She raised her hand to her forehead, as though she could feel her own temperature - although her skin did feel sensitive, hot and prickly as it did whenever she came down with something. This was exactly what she needed, some kind of cold when she was trying to prepare for a kingsmoot.

She slowly made her way to her chambers, reaching out and placing her palm against the walls for stability. Her stomach dropped with alarm when she realised how quickly this was coming on. Her eyes stung now and her legs shook as she slowly continued on, thinking of naught but her own bed.

"My Lady," Thali gasped as she passed through the doorway, rising immediately to take her arms in hers and guide her to the bed, "are you okay? You seem…"

"I'm ill," Ingrid groaned back, noticing how hard it seemed to speak, how much effort it took collecting the breath to do so. "Send for…"

"I'll send for help, My Lady," she offered, helping her lay down. "You look like a ghost, and -" she paused to raise her hand to Ingrid's brow, gasping in shock. "You're burning up!"

Ingrid was shaking now, her chest burning and her joints aching. "Get help," was all she could manage through gritted teeth as she felt her body begin to convulse. That was the last she recalled before she blacked out.


	9. Gifts

_Wowwwww, thank you for the reviews, guys! I love how so many of them are like "well I didn't expect much but I read it anyway and IT'S GOOD." I'm glad I'm exceeding expectations even if I write romance novel level garbage hahaha. I'm comfortable with who I am. Thanks so much, everyone. It keeps me writing._

* * *

Ingrid wasn't sure how long she'd been drifting in and out of consciousness for, just barely skimming in the twilight between asleep and awake, but it was a long time. The first thing she noticed when she finally came to entirely, though, was how dry her mouth felt. Had it been that long?

She looked to the chair by the fire, where Thali was asleep, doubled over in the chair. The handmaiden's position was so cute that she felt guilty awakening her, but Ingrid felt as though she'd been slammed into a brick wall and desperately needed water. "Thali," she croaked, feeling as though her throat was lined with sandpaper. "Thali," she repeated, slightly louder, watching as the handmaiden woke up. Thali's eyes widened as she came to realise who was speaking, launching herself from her seat, urgency in her movements. "Water. Please."

"My Lady!" She gasped, stumbling over to her, reaching haphazardly for a jug of water. "Thank the Divines!" She didn't even bother getting Ingrid a cup, helping her sit up before lifting the jug to her lips, helping her drink. Ingrid was alarmed at how weak she felt. What had happened? "We were so worried..." As Ingrid sipped, Thali twisted where she sat on the edge of the bed, calling to the door. "Send for the Jarl and the Healer! The Lady is awake!"

Pulling away, Ingrid wiped her mouth, finding relief in the restored moisture in her throat. "Thankyou," she whispered, hearing one of the guards outside her doors sprint away. "What happened to me?"

"Poison," Thali explained, reaching for a cloth on the bedside table and wiping Ingrid's brow. "It was the tea…" Thali frowned, becoming silent. "It's my fault. I should know more about herbs. If I had, I wouldn't have…"

"No," Ingrid reached up and took her wrist, stopping her and giving pause. "It's not you fault. I'll have none of that." She released the handmaiden, who continued to wipe her of whatever sweat had pooled on her face. "How long have I been out?"

Thali exhaled. "Nearly a week and a half. You came to every now and then, but you spoke nonsense, like you were still dreaming." Pursing her lips, she wrung the cloth in the basin of water. "The Jarl was distraught."

"Really?" She chuckled. "I've come through worse than this. He knows that."

"That's…" Thali tilted her head, looking uneasy all of a sudden. "That's not why."

As if on cue, the doors burst open, Ulfric storming in, a healer following - a new healer. A Nord. It was plain to see that this incident had already served Ulfric's distrust of foreigners. "Ingrid," he gasped as though he'd seen her die. Maybe he had. Maybe her condition had been that bad. He rushed to her bedside, nearly pushing Thali out of the way in doing so, cupping her face in his hands. "You're alright."

It took everything within Ingrid to not push him away from her, but she knew that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't hide her confusion at this reaction. "Mostly. I think," she replied.

"This is my fault," he said, dipping in to kiss her brow, Ingrid's eyes widening. "I should have known better than to let a Redguard near you, you can never trust them."

"That's… really not true…" with a nervous laugh, looking to the healer, hoping to be saved from this uncharacteristic affection. The healer approached, calmly putting herself between Ingrid and her husband before beginning to check over her.

Ulfric exhaled, raising an eyebrow. Even when they were riding together in a war campaign, they regularly argued over this topic. "Well, nonetheless, she fled Windhelm shortly before you took ill. Your housecarl is leading the investigation. I told him to bring her back alive but," he paused to laugh, "he is a passionate one. You chose your housecarl well. He wants her dead."

Ingrid watched the healer as she felt her neck for her pulse. "That doesn't really surprise me, he doesn't go into anything half-hearted." The healer placed her hand on Ingrid's brow, following this up by pulling her eyelids upwards to check the color. For a moment, Ingrid wondered if this is how horses felt.

The healer then took her hand and laid it on Ingrid's abdomen, closing her eyes as her hand began to glow. This, Ingrid decided, was bizarre - but she was sure there was a reason. She probably needed to make sure her digestive tract was working. Or something. Ingrid wasn't really well versed in medicine beyond setting a fracture and knocking back potions. And she had, after all, ingested poison. The room fell silent, allowing the healer to listen carefully, Ulfric seeming more tense than anyone.

Eventually, she gave a smile and removed the hand, nodding to Ulfric. "She's recovering well, my Jarl. Keep her warm and hydrated and she'll be fine, as will the child."

Ingrid froze, her heart feeling as though it had turned to stone in her chest. "...What?" She asked, her throat drying up again. She found herself wracked with nerves suddenly, her palms sweating, her eyes darting around those in the room - Thali looking almost guilty for some reason.

"Ah, I suppose this is the first you've been told," the healer replied, stepping back. But before she could finish, Ulfric pushed past again, at Ingrid's side once more, his hands on her shoulders as she stared at him, wide eyed.

"You're with child," he explained, the most genuine smile she'd ever seen on his face.

"...Already?" She looked to the healer, "how can you tell so soon? Is that even possible?"

The healer gave a nod. "You were bleeding ever so lightly, so I thought to check. Magic has many uses, my lady, not just those of battle."

Ingrid pushed Ulfric away just enough to move her hand down to her abdomen, her eyes probably as wide as dinner plates right now. She wasn't sure what to feel, really. Part of her had hoped she'd have more time before she conceived, and she felt herself panicking. She wasn't ready for this. At all. On the other hand, though, she counted her blessings that the child she was carrying had survived a poisoning. "I…" Ingrid wasn't even able to finish her sentence before Ulfric pulled her into an embrace.

"Thank you," his sighed, relief in his voice. "Anything you want is yours now."

A stinging stirred in her chest. Her first thought was Farkas.

* * *

She didn't see Farkas for another two weeks, nor was she allowed to leave the palace without him. She'd asked for his return, but was told he couldn't. It was far more important they figured out who was behind the assassination attempt, which was usually something Ingrid would do. She'd never felt so powerless.

She also felt increasingly suffocated. Ulfric had assigned her two more handmaidens now that she was pregnant, and she never seemed to get five minutes alone without them. The lack of privacy meant she couldn't speak to Thali about what was wrong with her, either. For the last week or so, Thali hadn't been herself. Usually the handmaiden was cheerful and quick to point out the positive, but lately she'd been sullen and quiet.

Ulfric had, however, become much more endearing. Pleasant, even. Ingrid had always had a respect for him, but until recently she'd never actively enjoyed his company. She could tell his sudden turn in disposition towards her was because she was carrying his child, but she still found herself happy to receive it. In fact, she quite enjoyed his attempts at showing her affection - she asked him for the same kind of bedding as his, and the next day she returned to her quarters to find her bed fully made with the most expensive bedding she'd ever laid her eyes on, even finer than his.

Her favorite aspect of pregnancy, though, was that she wasn't required to have sex with him anymore. Gone were the nights of sharing a bed awkwardly with the Jarl. Ingrid was now able to have her own room to herself, warm and cozy in her feather down blankets and pillows with fur lining and the snow fell outside her window. She no longer had to make a conscious effort to sleep with her mouth closed or not dribble, and was awakening feeling the best she had in months.

One morning she was awoken by him, although it wasn't exactly morning, more like early afternoon. "Oh, Ulfric," she yawned, sitting up in her bed. "I'm sorry, I slept in again."

"No," he said, holding his hand out in a gesture to stop her as he placed a stack of about five books down on her table. "Don't get up. Stay in bed. Rest. I have some good news for you." She tilted her head quizzically and waited for him to elaborate. "Your housecarl has found the information we need about your would-be assassin and is returning soon. He should be back in two days or so."

"Thank the Divines," she laughed, smiling ear to ear, trying to think of an excuse for her joy rather than trying to hide it. "It will be nice to be able to leave the palace and walk around Windhelm again." She turned her attention to the table. "What have you brought me?"

"Books," he replied matter-of-factly. "You spend a lot of time in the libraries, I thought you might enjoy having some just for you."

Ingrid leaned forward a little to try and get a better look from her bed. "Those spines are gold leafed," she observed. "Ulfric, they're beautiful. ...You really didn't have to."

"And that is why it's called a gift," he replied. "I'd also like to ask if you would like to eat with me tonight."

Ingrid raised an eyebrow. "We eat together all the time."

"No, not in the great hall," he explained. "In private in my chambers."

She blinked, trying to put together some kind of reasoning for this invitation. He didn't want sex, he would have just asked for that, and she was already pregnant, anyway. This was… odd. "I don't see why not," she replied with a shrug.

Ulfric nodded in acknowledgement. "Good. Make sure to tell your handmaiden what you want to eat. Whatever you want, we will have it." He leaned over the edge of the bed and planted a kiss on her cheek. "If you'll excuse me, I have many letters of congratulations to respond to. It seems even my largest critics are excited about this child."

With that, he turned and left, closing her door behind him. Ingrid found herself left to stare at her books, and raised her fingertips to touch her cheek where he'd kissed her. For a moment there, it felt like they were a genuine married couple.

* * *

Ingrid dabbed at her mouth as she finished her meal. Honey baked ham - she didn't know what pregnancy would do to her palate, but she was sure she'd never turn down honeyed ham. Ever. "Your face is healing well," he observed, taking a sip from his cup. "Does it cause you much pain?"

She gave a shrug. "Not as much as it _did_. The wounds on my legs were worse, by far."

"Yes," Ulfric replied with a nod. "You are still limping, it worries me."

"Worries you?" She repeated with a laugh. "You've seen me come out of worse scrapes than this. Since when did I worry you, anyway?"

Ulfric exhaled. "You always worry me, you have from day one."

Raising an eyebrow, Ingrid crossed her arms. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

She prepared herself to take offense as he explained himself. "The first time I met you, I thought your presence was an insult." He lifted his hand to stop her as she opened her mouth to protest and express her anger at this. "I thought that you didn't consider me a strong enough leader, that you had come to 'rescue' us. At one point, I worried that the Divines had sent you because I was doomed to fail otherwise. I thought you were an omen. I worried that this woman with no war experience was Dragonborn, something I could have done just as easily. How was it that your Thuum was stronger than mine after such a short time?"

"Were you…" she paused, her anger having turned into a wiley smile, "were you _jealous_ of me?"

"In part," Ulfric admitted. "I had been training my whole life only to meet someone who didn't have to train at all. Then I saw how my men would follow you into anything, how you inspired them. You made me wonder if I would lose their respect." He trailed off, gazing into his cup, deep in thought. "Do you remember when you came to me to debrief? When you took that fort for us? One of your men almost lost his leg."

Ingrid nodded. "Yes. That was... " she frowned. "We'd lost a lot of men that week. I was happy to bring you some good news."

"And it was good to receive it," he assured her with a smile. "But it was the first time I realised you weren't just the 'mighty Dragonborn.' After you told me about your father, I stopped seeing you as something the Divines had conjured up. I realized you were as real as I was. You had been given a responsibility greater than any one person, and you carried it and never complained, even if it may have been unfair. It was inspiring." He shifted in his seat, his gaze taking hers, a soft, genuine smile on her face. "A true daughter of Skyrim. _That_ was when I started to worry that you would be hurt, or worse."

"You never seemed very worried," Ingrid said, taking another sip from her cup.

He shrugged, the casualness of this throwing her a little off guard. "You never wanted special treatment."

Ingrid placed her cup back onto the table, her fingers tracing around the base of it as she spoke, her eyes focused on the engraving. "As lovely as all that is to hear, you have one fundamental aspect wrong," she said, flashing him a grin. "The first time we met was in that carriage, on the way to Helgen." Ingrid leaned back into her seat and shrugged. "I'm not surprised you didn't notice me, though. I wasn't the Dragonborn then, and you had much more on your mind." She laughed. "I suppose we all did. Impending death, all that."

"Oh, I noticed you," he assured her. "Believe me. They sat a beautiful young Nord across from me and I thought it was their final attack on me before death. I was sure of it. To make me watch you die would have been cruel, even for them."

Ingrid's face flushed suddenly and she cleared her throat, unable to hide her smile. "Now you're just flattering me."

Ulfric slowly shook his head. "I am serious. I had hoped that I would find you in the chaos and help you escape, but you'd already vanished. I assumed you'd been killed until you arrived in Windhelm." He chuckled. "Why else do you think I took you for a Divine creation at first? The Dragonborn, saved from death by mere seconds thanks to a Dragon - I still do not believe any of that was mere chance."

"I don't think it was, either," she agreed. "But I don't think I'm a Divine creation or whatever some may say. I was just born at the right time. _That_ part was pure luck."

"Tell me about your childhood," he said suddenly. "I am curious as to what makes such a Dragonborn."

She laughed at the sudden change of subject. He was making an effort, that was for sure. "My mother died in childbirth, so it was just father and I. He was the local hunter, did a good trade. We weren't exactly wearing finery, but the house was always warm and there was always food on the table."

"I assume he's where you get your marksmanship from."

She gave a nod. "As soon as I could walk, he put a bow in my hand. I went on my first proper hunt when I was eight summers - he brought back an elk and I managed to bring back an entire rabbit." She smiled, recalling the memory. "It was the smallest prize but he was so proud of me."

He smiled. "I like to hear stories about people's childhoods. Mine was quite boring, as you can imagine."

"Boring?" She asked. "You lived with the Greybeards. I skinned deer."

"It may be fascinating to us now, but when you are a boy of 10, it is quite a dull and boring place to spend your days," he said, eyeing her as he spoke. "At the time I would have happily swapped the cold castle full of dusty books for a life of skinning elk." Ulfric gave a shrug. "Still, we are so close to the better times I fought so hard for. I may be an old man, but I have freed Skyrim in all but technical terms, I will soon be High King and my child is carried by the Dragonborn. Perhaps a boring childhood was worth it."

She felt her own hand wander to her abdomen again. She wouldn't be showing for a while, but it was a subconscious act, one she didn't even think about. "Are you hoping for a boy or girl?" She asked, feeling a little embarrassed to ask such a seemingly mundane question. Ulfric didn't seem to think so, however.

"I would like a son," he replied with a decisive nod. "I suppose most men do, though. That's not to say that I would be disappointed with a daughter. Imagine a daughter with your looks and my temperament," he laughed. "No one would dream of taking Skyrim from her."

"My looks didn't get me this far," she warned, before feeling herself relent under his soft smile. "It's nice that you're so excited, though. Many men think of children as investments."

Ulfric shook his head. "I may be single minded at times, ruthless, even. And this child may have come to being out of need rather than love - but it will still be a child of Skyrim. And it will still be my child - the child of the High King of Skyrim and the Dragonborn."

* * *

"So," Farkas began, his voice suspiciously low as they exited the Windhelm gates to walk along the docks. Initially on Farkas' return, Ulfric had laid out the rules that she wasn't to leave the city, even if she was with Farkas. However, with a bit of insistence on her part, she'd managed to convince him that the ocean breeze would be good for her recovery. "This baby," he began, broaching the subject they'd been dancing around since he'd arrived the day before. "Do you know?"

She looked around, her eyes darting around the pier. Those who were around were on other piers, busy loading stock onto ships or shouting orders at eachother. This would be as much privacy as they'd get. "I don't know," she whispered through gritted teeth.

He gave a long exhale, crossing his arms, trying his best to not appear too troubled to others. "This is my fault," he growled in a hushed tone. "I should have just-"

"Don't," she snapped, her eyes thinning at him. "I wouldn't have had it any other way, you know that." She tilted her head from left to right, thinking it all over as she stretched her neck. "Anyway, statistically speaking, it's probably his."

"What?" Farkas asked. "How often has he had you?"

Ingrid couldn't hold back her face of disgust. "Farkus! Do you really want to know?" She glanced at him, waiting for a response that never came. "If you must know, every night, practically."

Farkas' visibly tensed at this, his knuckles turning white. "You're right. I didn't want to know."

"Well, it's over now, anyway," she whispered dismissively. "Once I've had this child for him we can do as we please. I promise."

The two shared a silence as the water splashed against the pier, neither of them sure what else to say. It was peaceful, in a way. Until a familiar voice suddenly exclaimed "Dragonborn!"

Ingrid gave a surprised jump, Farkas' hand moving to the handle of his blade immediately as they turned. Scouts-Many-Marshes stood before them, grinning ear to ear, the Argonian seemingly finding humor in the surprise he caused. "Many-Marshes!" She gasped, putting her hand to her chest. "Don't scare me like that!"

"It has been a while, I was excited," he laughed. "Look at you now, married to the Jarl, pregnant - congratulations, by the way." He gave her a nod before continuing. "I don't suppose I could take a moment of your time, could I?"

Farkas moved to shake his head, but Ingrid spoke first. "Of course. What's the matter? You're still being paid fair wages, yes?"

The Argonian smiled and nodded. "Yes, yes, I feel as though I could never thank you enough about that," he explained. "But I need to talk to you about the Assemblage. It's…" he tensed his jaw for a moment, searching for the right word, "it could use some love."

Ingrid frowned. "Is that not something you can ask the Jarl for?" She asked. "I thought Windhelm paid for the upkeep of it."

"They do, and we can ask him," he explained. "The problem is that Argonians aren't allowed in the city. We can't petition the Jarl in person. Technically he's meant to send someone to us for such things, but no one is ever sent." Many-Marches sighed. "I'm sorry to bother you with this. You've done so much for us already, but this winter has been especially dry, and our bones hurt in the cold of those rooms. And the _rats…_ "

Ingrid frowned, staring him down for a moment. "...You're still not allowed in the city?" She asked. "Not even on official business?" When Many-Marshes shook his head, her anger became more than apparent. "That's appalling. I didn't win a war for this… this…" she took a deep breath, attempting to calm herself, thinking of the baby she was carrying.

Many-Marshes, however, merely gave a shrug. "It isn't so bad," he dismissed, "at least we don't have to live in slums like the elves do. I've heard stories, they're not pretty."

Ingrid looked to Farkas, realizing she'd never actually been to the Grey Quarter. She'd just never had time, nor reason to go. "I see," she replied, giving a decisive nod. "Get me a list of things you need and I'll collect them from you tomorrow to petition my husband myself."

"Oh, thank you," he replied, bowing his head in appreciation. "Many people worried you would lose your heart when you married the Jarl, but I can't wait to tell them you didn't!"

"Come on," she said to Farkas, moving forward, purpose in her step as Many-Marshes rushed to the Assemblage to put together the list. "We're going to the Grey Quarter. I want to see how big Ulfric's mess is before I start to clean it up."


	10. Warnings

"How many different ways must I say this to you?" Ulfric asked her, his arms crossed. "The Argonians' quarters are fine. I've had no reports of this disrepair they've complained to you about."

Ingrid rubbed the bridge of her nose with her index finger and thumb. "You aren't listening to me," she insisted. "Whoever you have sending you reports hasn't _been_ to the Assemblage in months. It's too

dry in there for them to live. It hurts their lungs. These are very basic repairs, Ulfric, it would be practically no effort."

"If they don't like their lodgings, then they are welcome to move somewhere else," he replied, his voice firm. "Windhelm belongs to the Nords, not the lizard-men who live outside her walls."

Ingrid could barely respond to this, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. Of course, this shouldn't have come as a surprise to her. She always knew Ulfric had no compassion for anyone who wasn't a Nord, but this was bare minimum, even for him. She decided that this may have not been the best time to bring up the deplorable state of the Grey Quarter, after all. "I cannot _believe_ you," she exhaled, defeated, watching as he nonchalantly sat at his worktable. That was all she could manage. Anything she said now would be underpinned by rage, and that wouldn't do her any favors.

Instead, Ingrid turned and left his study, shaking her head as she made a beeline for her quarters. She wasn't about to give up, but she had to come up with a better plan. Perhaps she could take him down to the docks to see it for himself, she thought as she slumped down onto a seat in her room, Thali raising a brow. No. That wouldn't work. He'd never agree to it. "Everything alright?" Thali asked, frowning visibly at Ingrid's manner.

"I'm fine," she sighed, shaking her head. "Just at my wits end with my Husband. I'm sure it will pass."

Thali laughed, setting down the book she was reading, taking Ingrid by surprise. This was the first time she'd seen her handmaiden so much as smile in nearly a week. "What has he done?" She asked.

"Nothing – that's the problem." Ingrid brushed her hair behind her ear, her frustration apparent in her fidgeting. "The Argonian Assemblage needs repairs. _Desperately._ He'd barely have to lift a finger to provide them, but he just refuses to." She sighed, leaning back into her seat. "Maybe I should just give the gold to Farkas and have him arrange everything."

"No," Thali objected quickly, much to Ingrid's surprise. "That would only make the Jarl angry, you know what he's like."

Ingrid gave a nod. "True. He doesn't like being undermined."

"Exactly," Thali agreed, folding her hands in her lap. "My Lady, if you don't mind, perhaps I could make a suggestion?" The handmaiden waited for Ingrid to nod in approval before continuing. "You are the Jarl's wife, and judging by the gifts he's showered you with, you certainly please him. Perhaps you could play on that."

"You mean butter him up?" Ingrid asked. "Do you really think that would work?" She asked this half-jokingly, but honestly, she wasn't exactly ruling it out either.

Thali merely gave a shrug. "Why not? Even the most powerful of men have weakened for a woman's charms. Besides, you're carrying his child. If you can ever ask for anything, it's now."

* * *

A few hours later, as the sun set over Windhelm, Ingrid knocked on the door of Ulfric's study. "It's me," she announced, waiting until he looked up to see her before she stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "I came to apologise." At this, Ulfric raised an eyebrow, and although his hand still gripped his quill, his full attention was on her. Whatever he'd expected from her, it wasn't this. "It was wrong of me to push you over something so small during a time like this, before the moot. I'm sorry."

Ulfric responded with a grunt, turning his attention back to his work. "Thankyou. It's appreciated."

She approached his desk, slowly moving behind him and only hesitating slightly before draping her arms over his shoulders from behind him, leaning down so her head rested on his shoulder. "I think it's time we stopped arguing."

For a moment, Ingrid felt Ulfric tense, and she worried silently that he'd seen _right through her._ Honestly, if he had, she was totally expecting it. But instead, he relaxed into her touch. "This is new," he observed.

"I was just thinking about our child," she lied, thanking the Divines she was a convincing liar, "how loved it will be, what a good father it will have. It's a rarity these days."

Ulfric chuckled. "I see motherhood is getting to you."

"And it's only early days yet," she remarked, snuggling into him a little more. If she were to be honest, it was… nice. Maybe it was something maternal in her, but she felt like she was meant to be here. "Imagine how I might be at the moot. I hope you won't find me annoying."

"No," he exhaled, "this is not the worst thing to happen to me, I will admit. It is something I could get used to." He tilted his head ever so slightly. "How have you been feeling?"

She gave a lazy smile, her fingers tracing over the leather of his jerkin, "much better. Tired, but much better."

"You need to rest more," he suggested. "You seem to enjoy putting yourself under stress."

Ingrid laughed at this. "True. I can't help but worry though, about things I can't control. Like the moot, or who tried to hurt me, or the Assemblage…" she paused. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bring it up."

His lips pursed. "Do the lizard-men really worry you so much?" he asked.

"I just think about how the Imperials treated us for so long," she explained, "maybe it's because I'm with child, but I feel like we should at least have compassion, even if we can't trust them. Even if they are spies, what harm will fixing their broken walls and getting rid of the rats do?" She let out a long breath, her voice so low it was almost a whisper. "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Nothing is more formidable than a High Queen who is respected by even her enemies."

Ulfric was silent for a moment, eventually reaching with his hand to stroke Ingrid's hair. "If it will help you rest easier," he finally relented with an exhale, "then I will arrange for the repairs."

"Really?" Ingrid asked, her voice heavy with a laugh of disbelief. She turned her head, kissing him on the cheek. "Ulfric, I don't know what to say."

"Say nothing," he teased, "I don't want people thinking I'm at the whim of my young and pretty wife." He gave a slight smirk. "They'll start calling you Potema."

"I've been called much, much worse," Ingrid assured him, pulling away as he stood up from his seat. "Thank you, I mean it. This… means a lot to me."

Ulfric acknowledged this with a nod as he turned to face her, the difference in their height apparent, Ingrid having to tilt her head up ever so slightly to look him in the eye. "Do you think you would be well enough to visit my chambers tonight after we eat?" he asked. "Just to talk. It would be nice to spend some more time with you. I enjoyed the discussion we had over dinner last time."

"Yes," she agreed. "That would be nice."

* * *

Ingrid shifted against the seat of her carriage, hating every moment of the trip to Whiterun. Ulfric had refused her a horse of her own now that she was with child, so she was resigned to spend the journey to the Kingsmoot fighting her own nausea in what was essentially a fancy box with windows and wheels.

"How are you feeling?" Thali asked, noticing her mistress' frown as they travelled over a particularly rough part of road. "Do you need us to stop?"

"No." Ingrid shook her head. As much as she would have liked to stop, she wanted this journey over and done with as soon as possible. Even when she wasn't in the carriage, she felt nauseous at the worst of times, all thanks to the baby that grew inside her. "I'll be fine. And surely we'll be there soon." She peered out the window. "I mean, this all looks familiar, and we've been travelling for nearly seven hours now."

The handmaiden gave a nod, unconvinced. "Okay, but if you need a break, let me know and I'll tell Farkas," she offered. Farkas had taken a seat next to the horseman, ready to spring to action should anything happen. After the attempt on her life, everyone was paranoid, and Ulfric's refusal to publicly declare who was responsible only worsened things. Not even Ingrid knew - although, honestly, she didn't really want to think about it during a time where she couldn't really _do_ anything about it. "Are you nervous?" Thali asked.

"About the Kingsmoot?" Ingrid shook her head. "Not really. The fact it's in Whiterun helps, mutual ground and all of that. And it will be nice to see my other Housecarl."

Thali gave a blink. "You have _two_ Housecarls?" Ingrid laughed at her surprise, giving a dismissive wave of her hand.

"I'm a Thane in Whiterun as well, that's all. Lydia has cared for my home there for a long time." Ingrid paused to smile. "She writes me every week… I should take you to see my old home," she suddenly realized. "Maybe you can get more of an idea as to why I'm so clueless about all the finery of the Palace."

"I'd like that," Thali agreed. "What will you do if they don't make The Jarl High King?"

This sent Ingrid silent. She didn't even want to consider the possibility of such an outcome. "I don't know," she replied, being completely honest with her handmaiden. She tried to picture what Ulfric would do if that happened, but that would send him into such a state that she couldn't even picture it. Maybe he'd shout everyone into pieces, or, more likely, he'd return to Windhelm and come back onto to burn down the hold of every Jarl who'd opposed his claim. "I suppose I'll have to do whatever is best for Skyrim and my child."

Thali rested against her seat, gazing out the window. "I've spent every spare moment I've had praying to the Divines for the Jarl's victory," she explained. "I've offered I could in the temple. I hope my prayers are worth something," she mused. "The Jarl is very passionate, and I'm frightened of what he will do if he loses the crown."

"As am I, Thali," Ingrid agreed, her voice quieting. "As am I."

* * *

There was some spare time once they'd arrived and been greeted in Whiterun, and Ingrid was given leave to see the town in the company of her Housecarl. She'd chosen to bring Thali with her as well, wanting to fulfil the offer to show her Breezehome, but first they decided to visit Jorrvaskr.

"Brother!" Vilkas shouted over the voices of the other Companions when they entered the long hall, opening his arms to Farkas and hugging him briskly as brothers do, the both of them smacking each other on the back. "You have been missed in Jorrvaskr!"

Farkas, who was grinning ear to ear looked around, seemingly overjoyed to see everyone again. The sight of this made Ingrid's heart swell - she'd had no idea how much he'd missed the others, and hadn't seen him this happy in a very long time. "And I've missed Jorrvaskr," he replied, laughing as he greeted Aela with the same kind of hug, their shield brothers and sisters crowding around them to greet them.

"Was worried you'd gotten too fancy for us now," Aela joked, moving to hug Ingrid, "I hope the fancy beds in Windhelm haven't sent you soft."

"Me?" he laughed, "soft?" He playfully punched the huntress in the arm. "We can find out right now if you'd like."

Aela opened her mouth to retort, but paused, sniffing the air. Her eyes snapped on to Ingrid, who hadn't had a chance to say anything so far. "Harbinger," she began, her voice peppered with surprise. "You're pregnant!" Aela gave another grin as the others cheered, someone shouting something about opening a fresh barrel of mead to celebrate. "So old Stormcloak's men can still swim, huh?"

Ingrid couldn't help herself, snorting with laughter, much to Thali's horror, who audibly gasped. For a Nord, Ingrid supposed that Thali had seen little of _this_ brand of crassness. Although, the Companion brand of crass was an entirely different brand altogether.

"And who is this?" Vilkas asked, taking notice of the shocked redhead who was only slightly hiding behind Ingrid.

Ingrid gently took Thali's arm, bringing her forward towards the group. "This is Thali, my handmaiden. She helps me figure out all that fancy Palace stuff," she explained. "And she'll be even more helpful once I get so big I can't cross my legs." She winked the Vilkas, gesturing to him. "Thali, this is Vilkas, Farkas' brother. He sort of runs thing here when I'm away. Which is… a lot."

Thali glanced between the two, her face bright red by this point. "I uh, thought you looked familiar," she observed. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You look overwhelmed," Vilkas began, looking to Ingrid. Honestly, he wasn't wrong at all. Thali was a quiet, delicate little Nord maiden dressed in a soft, blue dress - and here she was surrounded by loud, drunken, fur and dirt covered Companions. "Stay for a few drinks, your friend looks like she could use some mead."

"Well, we were planning on seeing Lydia at Breezehome," Ingrid began, looking to Thali, "but if you'd like to stay, Thali, I'm sure we can find time later."

Thali, who hadn't actually taken her eyes off Vilkas once since he'd introduced himself, gave a nod. "I'd be happy to, but only if you're happy to, my Lady."

"Nonsense, it'll be good for Farkas to see everyone," she laughed with a dismissive wave.

"And I can send someone to bring Lydia here. Your Housecarl is no stranger to us," Vilkas added. He then offered his arm to Thali, something that caused Farkas and Ingrid to shoot each other a look of surprise. "Come and sit. We have plenty of food and mead to share." Ingrid watched in almost complete disbelief as Thali took Vilkas' arm, allowing him to lead her down the steps and to one of the tables.

"...I guess we're staying for dinner," Farkas laughed.

Ingrid gave a nod, moving with Aela to take a seat. "I guess so."

Before Ingrid had even taken a seat, several of the Companions began to drunkenly sing - some of them new faces she didn't even recognize. They seemed a good bunch though, well bonded and strong. It seemed Vilkas was doing a wonderful job leading the Companions in her absence, and part of her wondered if perhaps she should pass on the title of Harbinger to him. Could she do that? She made a note to look it up later.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Aela, though, who had grabbed her arm and pulled her in suddenly to whisper in her ear. "I smell more than one man on you," the huntress whispered in a voice so low that it was nearly a growl. "I respect you, Harbinger, and I would give my life for you - but if you hurt my shield brother or put him in danger, I will hunt you down during a full moon like an animal." She paused, her grip on Ingrid's arm tightening. "You'd best hope that child looks like your husband, because Stormcloak _will_ kill you both." With that, Aela let go of Ingrid and proceeded to act as if nothing had happened. "Let me see if we keep anything around here that isn't mead for you," she announced, standing up. "Can't have a toast and a song if your cup is empty, can we?"

As Aela wandered off and the new blood sang, Ingrid tried her best to hold her composure. How stupid of her. Not at one point did she stop and consider that if Ulfric found out, he'd be inconsolable with rage. They were both in _very_ great danger.


	11. Interrogation

_I'm so sorry it's taken so long for me to update. I've had a bit of writer's block, clinical depression, university… you know. Life._

* * *

The initial part of the moot had gone well. Or, well, at least Ingrid hoped so. Traditionally, the Kingsmoot was a closed event that ran in three stages; during the first stage each candidate would present before the council of Jarls, arguing their case and responding to any questions. During the second stage, the council of Jarls would call on witnesses of character - generals, relatives, nobles - and interview them about the candidates. In the third and final stages, the Jarls would debate amongst themselves and come to a final decision. No one would be allowed to enter or leave the hall until the decision was made.

However, now that Ingrid had been called before the council, she felt a pang of anxiety that hadn't been there during this entire process. The hall had been specially set up so that there was a weaved divider between herself and the council, providing the individual Jarls anonymity. Knowing Ulfric's temper, she couldn't blame them for feeling this necessary.

"Dragonborn," a voice asked from behind the divider. "You sided with the army of Ulfric Stormcloak during the rebellion, is that correct?"

Ingrid gave a nod initially before realising that they couldn't actually _see_ her. "Uh, yes," she replied. "I did."

"Would you care to explain why you chose the Stormcloaks?"

Ingrid shifted in her seat, fidgeting with her nails. She was good with words, sure, but that didn't make her any less nervous about this. "Ulfric Stormcloak is a true leader," she explained. "I have travelled far, as you can imagine, and I have seen the impact of Imperial rule over Skyrim. I've experienced it myself."

A voice cleared it's throat. "One would assume that the Dragonborn could assemble her own aRmy if she desired liberation," he argued.

"That's true," Ingrid nodded along, even though they couldn't see her do so. "If I were to call for an army, many would join me. But I'm not a leader," she corrected. "I may be the Dragonborn, yes. I may have achieved things few have. But before joining with the Stormcloaks I had never commanded an army, I had never felt the need to. But to hear Ulfric speak…" she tilted her head, searching for the words, "he's not just commanding you. He asks you for your help, and his passion and leadership makes you _want_ to follow him. It doesn't feel like an army. It feels like a gathering of brothers and sisters."

"I see," another voice exhaled, the sound of a creaking chair following. "You both met at Helgen before the dragon attack," they asked. "Why were you in Helgen in the first place?"

"Talos worship," she replied bluntly. "My father refused to denounce Talos. I was deemed guilty by association."

Another creak of a seat, as though someone were leaning forward. "You'll have to forgive me," an elderly female voice asked, "but your marriage to Jarl Ulfric was rather surprising. When did _that_ begin?"

Ingrid frowned. Well, at least _one_ person was suspicious of the legitimacy, that much was clear. "There were moments during our campaign," she lied, trying to be as vague as possible, "but it was after we took Solitude and he confessed to me that I realised.. well…"

Ingrid trailed off, trying to think her phrasing, but another voice spoke before she could finish. "What an awfully intimate line of questioning," accused a male voice.

"We are to learn the character of the Jarl, are we not?" the older woman spat, causing Ingrid to believe that this was _not_ the first disagreement the council had. "Nonetheless, you are with child, are you not?"

"Yes," she replied.

There was a long exhale from the female voice. "Congratulations on your blessing." She gave pause. "I have no more questions."

"Dragonborn," the voice who interrupted began, clearing his throat. "I am going to ask you a question now, and I hope that you can give me an honest response. Do you think that Ulfric Stormcloak would make a suitable High King? And I ask you not as his wife, not as the mother of his child, but as the Dragonborn."

Ingrid barely missed a beat. "Yes. I absolutely do. I put my faith in his claim."

"It is a shame," the voice relented, "that you are not a candidate. Perhaps it would have made this process less tedious. At least then we'd all be able to agree on something."

She chuckled at this. At least she was still Dragonborn to _someone_ at least. "Is that all?" She asked.

There were hushed whispers before the voice replied. "Yes. Your thoughts will be well considered, Dragonborn. You are dismissed."

Without another word, she rose from her seat and left the hall, her stomach in knots. She felt like she'd done well, but what if she'd said something wrong? What if Ulfric wasn't crowned? Would he blame her? She felt another lurch of morning sickness and frowned to herself. If he tried to blame her for this, she wasn't going to put up with it.

* * *

"My Lady!" Thali seemingly screeched from the hall outside her room before all but bursting through the door. "You did it!" She exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement, her skirts in her hands, looking entirely dishevelled. "The council decided in Ulfric's favor!" Ingrid wasn't sure how to react, although Thali, was was grinning ear to ear, seemed to be doing it for the both of them as she dropped her skirts and took her hands in hers.

"Are…" Ingrid blinked, shocked. "Are you sure?"

Suddenly, the bells of Dragonsreach began to ring out. "Come!" Thali insisted, moving quickly to grab a set of furs that had been thrown over her wardrobe chest. "They're going to announce it!" The handmaiden threw the furs over Ingrid's shoulders before gesturing to the door.

Not knowing what to say at all, Ingrid followed, watching as guests of Dragonsreach peaked their heads from their doors. Thali took Ingrid's hand, slowly breaking into a run. While Ingrid could understand that this was an occasion of great importance, she wasn't entirely sure that it warranted so much excitement. Still, there was something a little heartwarming about seeing Thali so thrilled to see this announcement.

They eventually arrived by the balcony of Dragonsreach that overlooked Whiterun, both doors surrounded by guards who let them pass on seeing Ingrid. When they came to the balcony, she saw the council standing there. Or, at least, most of them. A quick headcount and she realized that at least a few of them were missing. Perhaps the vote hadn't been entirely unanimous. That wouldn't have really surprised her, honestly.

Standing in the center of the balcony was Vignar Grey-Mane and, of course, Ulfric, who was looking more than pleased with himself already. Elisif was nowhere to be seen, which made Ingrid feel somewhat uneasy. Was she really that displeased at losing a title she wasn't even really entitled to anymore? Looking over the balcony, Ingrid could see townspeople gathering below, all of them looking up, probably trying to see what was going on. She knew there was a following, mildly, at least. That the people of Whiterun cared and speculated. But this many? They did ring the bells, however, so it was quite obvious that it was of importance, even if some people didn't want to admit it.

The ringing of the bells stopped, giving Ingrid's ears a slight relief as Vignar stepped forward. She wondered for a moment how he would communicate with everyone. The people of Whiterun could see them, of course, but it was still a great distance. Instead, he took Ulfric's hand, raising it up with his own - Ulfric was the victor, and it was clear of all to see now.

She held her breath as she waited for the public's response, but a cheer eventually followed. She knew there were still Imperial sympathizers, but right now they didn't much matter. This was Ulfric's moment. He was to be High King, now. With the Dragonborn as his High Queen and a child on the way, she supposed he had everything to be happy about.

"I'm so excited for you, My Lady," Thali whispered, placing her hand on Ingrid's shoulder. "You're to be the High Queen of Skyrim!" Thali gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. But it wasn't until Ulfric turned around to smile at her that it fully dawned on Ingrid. She wasn't just going to be the Dragonborn anymore. She was going to be the High Queen, doing... whatever that entailed, she wasn't entirely sure, but she knew it was probably going to be somewhat difficult. If you'd told her when she was a young teenager hunting and skinning elk with her father that this would happen, she would have laughed it off

Yet here she was. A ring on her finger, a baby in her belly, and a crown about to be placed on her head.


	12. Rumours

_Short chapter today! Kind of just bringing stuff together._

* * *

Ingrid had spent the last few years of her life living as the Dragonborn, sneaking into tombs, fighting dragons, leading armies… yet, once again, she had just lived through yet another fitting for a dress. The coronation was to be in a week and, just like her wedding, she was swept up in a whirlwind of dress fittings, beauty regiments and even a portrait sitting.

Thankfully, though, she'd managed to finally pull herself away from it all, insisting she felt unwell and needed fresh air. Her Housecarl had dutifully argued her case with the team of seamstresses before leading her out to the gardens of the Windhelm palace. "You really are my hero," she joked, the frost crunching under their boots as they walked. "The sooner Ulfric's coronation is over and done with, the better."

"It's your coronation too," he corrected, shooting her a little smile. Ingrid rolled her eyes.

"Don't remind me." She took a deep breath, inhaling the cold air. "Any news from the outside world?"

He gave a shrug. "Taverns are taking bets on if you'll have a boy or a girl, they're building a temple of Talos in Whiterun, and..." Farkas trailed off, frowning, before giving a shrug. "Nothing else that you need to worry about, really."

Ingrid raised an eyebrow. "I thought you'd know better than to try and keep things from me to 'protect' me, Farkas," she chided, her lips pursing together once she'd finished. He exhaled, tilting his head from left to right, visibly uneasy.

"There's been... meetings," he explained. "They're calling themselves Freedom Fighters, think that Ulfric will be bringing a regime in." He paused, looking to her, trying to gauge her reaction. "Most of the recruits are non human. Don't think I need to explain to you why they're not a big fan of your husband."

Ingrid raised her fingers to the bridge of her nose. "Of course they are. Of course."

Farkas reached out, gently rubbing her back. "They're only meeting. Just getting together and complaining about how much they don't like Ulfric," he assured her. "Nothing to worry about. They'll lose steam."

"That's what they said about the Stormcloaks." She shook her head and continued on her stroll. "And I've heard that some of the Jarls didn't vote in Ulfric's favor, so no doubt they'll be throwing some coin at the Freedom Fighters."

"It's being watched carefully," he insisted. "Like I said, don't worry about it."

"Farkas," she laughed, "my life for the last month has been nothing but portrait sittings and dress fittings. I need to worry about _something_ or I'll lose my mind."

Farkas paused, quickly doing a full turn to make sure they weren't being listened to before lowering his voice. "Actually, I've been worrying," he began, "about you. This baby…" he paused, thinking carefully for a moment. "Once it's born… what if you don't want to leave it?"

"What do you mean?" She asked. "I'm not going to leave it, Farkas, it's… well, it's still my child." Her hand found her way to her torso again. Thali had sworn that she'd began to swell ever so much, but Ingrid couldn't see it. "There'll be time after the birth where I'll have to stay here, but I'm the Dragonborn, eventually we'll called away, and then…" she shrugged. "After that, our adventures can be more and more frequent, I suppose."

"So you'll always live a double life?" He asked.

She frowned. "I suppose. Once the child is born, Ulfric has said I'm free to do if I please, so we won't have to hide from _him,_ at least."

Farkas leaned in, his voice nearly a whisper. "And what if the child isn't what he thinks it is?"

Ingrid suddenly pulled away, uncomfortable with him so much as even mentioning it to her. "Don't," she ordered, her voice a hushed whisper like his. "We can't even entertain that."

"We need to talk about it," he insisted.

"No, we don't, I-"

"I have a right," he snapped, his voice raised ever so slightly.

She searched his face, and while she thought initially he was angry, it was worse. He was upset. Hurt, even, by her dismissiveness. "It doesn't matter," she finally replied, her voice softening, trying her best to convey her sympathy without it showing to whoever might be watching from afar. "Even if… that's the outcome, it's not going to end up how you think it will. I'm sorry." She exhaled, watching her breath turn into steam. "Our time will come. But it's not now."

His shoulders stiffened and he tensed his jaw, turning and beginning the walk back to the interior of the palace, Ingrid following, a little puzzled. "Let me know when it does," he grumbled, opening a door for her. "I wasn't aware I'd have to wait to so much as _talk_ with you." As soon as Ingrid was inside and the door was shut behind them, he stormed off, Ingrid knowing better than to follow him.

* * *

There was something wonderful about being in a warm bath while it was visibly snowing outside. Part of her wished that she could be bothered reading a book in there, but Ingrid was well too overburdened with her own thoughts to take on any information right now. The quiet has been good for her though. It was time to clear her head and think over it, to think over a backup plan.

A midwife adept in magic. That would be the key to her plan. Ulfric, of course, had wanted to handpick a midwife himself, but with a few sweet words and some nudging she could surely change his mind. She'd request only Thali, the midwife, and Aela join her in the birthing room, and Farkas would guard the door. And then, if the child was visibly not Ulfric's, she'd send Aela to bring Farkas inside. To help with something… what that thing would be, she wasn't sure, but they'd come up with it later. The midwife would safely transport them out of there… somehow. Was there a scroll for that? Could she make them all invisible? Even the child? She wasn't adept in magic herself, so she really wasn't sure. By the time someone came in to check on them, they'd all be clear of Windhelm and half way to… Cyrodiil? No, she was a _very_ wanted woman there. Morrowind, maybe, or Hammerfell? Then it would just be a matter of going into hiding and and finding a new life for herself and Farkas.

Farkas. Her mind wandered to him. To how much she wanted him. To touch him and hold him wherever they were. But she couldn't, and he was mad at her for something she couldn't change. That, to be honest, made her angry with _him-_

A knock on the door before it opened anyway, but only partially. "I am sorry," Ulfric's voice began, "I would have come back later, but this is… somewhat of urgency."

She rolled her eyes. She didn't want to have an important conversation with him through a crack in the door, but she didn't want to leave the bath, either. "Come in," she sighed, dropping her shoulders. "It's fine." He would see her, of course, but that wasn't a totally bad thing if she had to ask him for something. And he was, after all, her husband.

The door slowly opened, as though he had hesitated, and he quickly stepped through, closing the door behind him. Although he tried not to at first, his eyes eventually wandered to the water, but he quickly busied himself with taking the nearby foot stool and bringing it to the side of the bath, taking a seat. "I wanted to warn you that the coronation will have… a larger military presence than you may expect."

"Is this because of the Freedom Fighters?" She asked, glancing to him before resting her head against the back of the bath. "I know, and I'm not surprised."

Ulfric furrowed his brow, scratching at his beard. "What do you mean, 'not surprised?'"

"I've been told that their main recruits are the exact people you tend to treat poorly," she explained. "Elves, Argonians… anything that doesn't look like a Nord. Can't say I didn't warn you."

"I cannot believe you," he scoffed. "You are not concerned for your safety?" He asked.

She gave a shrug. "Mine? No. The baby's? Yes." She eyed him carefully, reading his expression. "But if you're going to try and squash them like you do everything else that opposes you, you're going to make it worse."

Ulfric shook his head. "And what would you have me do?" He asked. "Welcome them with open arms, allow them to assassinate my wife?" Part of her tensed when he said this. She still, after all this time, wasn't used to hearing him call her his wife. Yet, every time she heard it, the more she liked it, and the more he sounded like he genuinely cared for her beyond a political gesture.

"No," she exhaled. "I'm suggesting you work with them." He opened his mouth to argue, but she continued on. "Not directly," she added, "someone like an ambassador, a mediator. Have them form a council, put the ambassador on it. Let them handle it."

He raised an eyebrow. "And you think this would work?" He asked.

"I know it would," she replied with confidence. "They just need input. To be heard. To be treated like human beings."

"But they're not humans," he corrected.

"You _know_ what I mean, Ulfric."

He suddenly reached out, brushing some of her hair behind her ear, and although this gesture surprised her, Ingrid didn't get it show. "At first I thought your stubbornness would be trying on my patience," he began, his fingertips trailing down the back of her neck, "but I've come to like the way it frustrates me." Ulfric smiled, his fingers coming to the water, resting there. "You are right," he finally relented. "I will begin assembling candidates for this ambassador."

"Really?" Ingrid asked, finally giving him a reaction, somewhat confused.

He shrugged. "If I am to be honest?" He asked. "I'd hand over the kingdom if you asked right now." He leaned in, kissing her gently. "Consider me powerless." He kissed her again, the hand which had rested in the water moving to cup the nape of her neck. At first, Ingrid wanted to reject him. She was carrying their child. She'd done her part. But…

Something heated was stirring inside her, the thought of being able to bring such a powerful man to his knees just by being naked before him making her heart thump in her chest. Something came over her and she slowly rose, standing up in the bath, watching as he was unable to take his eyes off her, almost completely helpless. She stepped out of the bath, Ulfric standing to meet her. As she grabbed him by his sleeves and pulled her towards her, she couldn't believe how easy this was, how much power she had over him, so quickly. Her behind sitting perfectly on the rim of the bath, even as she stood, he kissed her again, his hands gripping at her waist, their breathing heavy as her hands rested on the back of his neck, her fingers curling in his hair.

He groaned, one hand moving to cup her breast as another fidgeted with his belt, his knee coming between hers and nudging her legs to spread a little further for him. She lifted one leg, gently raising it up to his hip, grinding against him as he now frantically pulled at the ties of his breeches. Suddenly, she raised a hand, planting the flat of her palm against his chest, gently pushing him just far away enough from her to stop him.

He stared at her, breathless, looking almost desperate for her to continue. She only smirked, shaking her head. "Anything you want," he breathed, "just tell me. Please." She watched him carefully, feeling his heart beating against her hand, even through his clothes. Ulfric Stormcloak was before her, all but begging her to let him take her, and she had to fight off how excited that alone made her. It was thrilling, and she knew already that it would be addictive.

She stepped aside, separating them, Ulfric staying where he was as he watched her take a towel and cover herself. She stepped towards him again, her fingers gripping his hair again as she pulled him to her, kissing him ferociously, yet so quickly it was fleeting. She smirked again. "Love me like your _wife,_ not like a mistress," was all she whispered before turning and walking through the door, nearly slamming it behind her and leaving her husband to straighten himself out before returning to society.

* * *

Vilkas had arrived for the coronation, which Ingrid thought strange at first. Usually when the Companions sent a representative, it was Aela. But as they walked through the Windhelm markets together, catching up and discussing Companions matters, it eventually became clear why Vilkas had been the one to make the journey North. "I must ask you," he began, eyeing the blacksmith as they passed, "how is Thali?"

"Thali?" She asked, glancing to him, an eyebrow raised. "She's doing quite well. Very excited about this Coronation business. Why?"

He was silent for a moment, chewing on the inside of his lip for a moment. "I… well, we have been writing each other since she returned to Winterhold. Which hasn't been a long time, but… I thought… perhaps… if you held no objection…" he cleared his throat. "I would like to ask Thali to marry me."

Ingrid paused, grinning ear to ear. "Vilkas!" She laughed, playfully slapping his shoulder. "Really?"

He gave a nod. "She is… well… I suppose you can figure out what I think of her."

"I thought you looked quite taken with her when I introduced you," she began, unable to stop smiling. "Of course I have no objections! Vilkas, this is so exciting!"

Finally giving a gentle smile, Vilkas gave a nod as the two began to walk again. "I suppose it is, isn't it?" He asked. "Farkas said I should ask you first," he explained, "because she has been with you for so long, and through your pregnancy." He paused. "How has my brother been?"

"He's been good," she replied.

"No," Vilkas shook his head, lowering his voice. "I mean how has he been? With the…" he trailed off as it dawned on Ingrid what he meant.

She exhaled, closing her eyes momentarily. "Of course he's told you."

At this, the twin scoffed. "Told me?" He asked. "Only as a formality, when I asked him. I can read my brother like a book. Don't worry," he assured her, "your secret is safe with me, Harbinger. All I wish is for my brother to be happy. Aela… I suppose I should warn you about her."

"Aela?" Ingrid frowned. "What has she done now?"

"Not what she's done, what she may do." He lead her into the ally by the graveyard where things were quieter, his voice still low. "She's convinced that your child isn't… legitimate," he explained, treading very carefully around his words. "And she's been saying things. Putting ideas on the table. Mostly things to keep Farkas safe, mind you…"

"But?" She asked.

He gave a long exhale through gritted teeth. "She's mentioned the idea of kidnapping you before the child comes, and failing that…" he shook his head. "I would rather not mention it aloud. I think you can put it together."

Ingrid couldn't help but scoff. "So she'd rather kill me and my child than put Farkas in danger?" She whispered. "That's almost sweet, in Aela's own way."

Vilkas didn't find this so funny. "It is all good and well to joke about, but imagine what her actions could do to the Companions. Do you honestly think Ulfric Stormcloak would allow Jorrvaskr to stand if he knew about this?"

"Don't worry, Vilkas," Ingrid insisted. "It's the beast blood talking for her. Aela's bark is worse than her bite. Most of the time, anyway. And don't fret about the actions of my husband," she said, a wry smile at the corners of her mouth. "I've got him under my thumb."


	13. Promises

_There's smut here. Yeah. Go me. Nothing cures thirst for the D like staying up until 2am on a work night writing smut._

* * *

"And then he took me to where the cliffs overlook Anga's Mill," Thali recalled, fidgeting with her nails as she and Ingrid sat by the fire in the Dragonborn's quarters, Ingrid listening intently, her eyes wide with excitement. "There was a silence, and I thought maybe he'd spotted some danger, so I looked to him and he was down on one knee…"

Ingrid grinned, "and then?" She asked. "Did you say yes?"

Thali was chewing on her bottom lip by now, and Ingrid thought she saw a slight sadness in her eyes. But eventually Thali gave a short laugh, smiling to herself. "Of course I did," she confirmed. "Vilkas will be a good husband. He is kind and and will keep me safe and… he seems to really like me."

"I don't think 'like' covers half of it," Ingrid laughed. "I'm so happy for you, Thali! Do you know when you'll be married?"

The younger girl shrugged. "Well, he wanted to be married as soon as possible, but we've agreed on a long engagement. Until you've had the baby."

"Oh, Thali," she sighed, "you don't have to do that."

"No," she laughed, shaking her head. "You're my friend and I plan on being here for you when the time comes."

Ingrid reached out, taking Thali's hand and squeezing it in hers. "Well, I'm happy for you anyway. This is what marriage should be. Two people who care for eachother."

Thali watched Ingrid carefully before brushing a lock of her red hair behind her ear. "Lord Stormcloak," she began, pausing, looking downwards. "Is he kind to you?"

Raising an eyebrow, Ingrid leant back into her seat, resting into it. "Yes. At first he was… I wouldn't say he was unkind, but he was… rough around the edges. But, Thali," she she said, shaking her head, "Ulfric and I married out of need. You and Vilkas care for eachother. You have the basis of a relationship there."

Thali gave a nod. "Yes, I know. Vilkas is nothing but kind to me. But that's not why I ask." She pursed her lips together and Ingrid could sense that the girl had suddenly turned incredibly nervous for reasons she couldn't quite ascertain. "Just… the way he talks of you now compared to before…"

"What do you mean?" Ingrid asked, tilting her head. "Do tell."

The handmaiden shook her head. "Just what the servants have overhead, I talk with them often…" she trailed off for a second. "I very much hope that a man will one day love me the way that he loves you."

Ingrid laughed, shaking her head at this, much to Thali's surprise. "He doesn't love me," she explained. "No, no. I'm carrying his child. I'm winning him favors. He's just pleased with me, that's all."

She opened her mouth to argue, but she stopped herself, apparently deciding better. "There has just been a change in him, that is all. ...Would you ever love him?" She asked.

She was silent for a moment, thinking it over, shifting in her seat. "Would I?" She repeated to herself. "I'm not sure," she finally offered, "it would take time. He is the father of my child, after all, but… I just don't know." She was being honest. She wanted to be able to say she could never, she wanted to be able to dedicate herself to Farkas like she wanted. But something in her warned her away from it, away from Farkas, the guilt of not being able to do so weighing on her. She could never fully dedicate herself to him, even though he'd already done so for her. Whereas Ulfric… she cleared her throat, suddenly uncomfortable with her own thoughts. "For what it's worth, I have known Vilkas a long time. He will bring you the world if it will make you happy. You needn't worry."

"Well, you should probably know that Ulfric plans on doing just that," Thali warned, a wry, cheeky grin on her face. "You'll see."

* * *

Thali had _not_ been joking in the slightest. Over the next few days, Ulfric showered Ingrid with all kinds of lavish gifts. Dresses, jewellry, furs and books from all over Tamriel. Flowers were given, songs were patroned, he even commissioned her a perfume (which, although a kind gift, Ingrid found far too sweet smelling to actually wear.)

While those around them assumed the gifts to be coronation gifts or declarations of love for the pregnant Dragonborn from her husband, Ingrid knew far better. Every day, after the gifts were given and the sun was beginning to set, Ulfric would ask the same thing. "Shall we dine in my room tonight?" And every day, Ingrid would say no. At the rate the Stormcloak leader was going, she'd never bed him again purely because he didn't understand that material goods alone can't build a relationship.

One day, though, he collected her from her quarters. Unusual, yes, but Ingrid assumed perhaps he would unveil something ridiculous to her like a prize pony. Or a dragon. Honestly, if he'd gone to the effort to _find_ a dragon, she would have been a little impressed with his dedication, at least.

Instead, though, Ulfric lead her to a room in the palace, stopping short of the door. "I had wanted to show this to you myself," he explained, his hand on the doorknob, "I've been putting it together since I found out you were with child." He opened the door and Ingrid froze in place. "Hopefully you approve."

A fully furnished nursery. Such a rarity in Skyrim, at least in Ingrid's experience. What she'd seen of nurseries could barely be called one, just a bassinet by the parent's bed. But this? "It's beautiful," she sighed in awe, stepping inside to look around. If she'd known Ulfric was putting a nursery together, she'd have expected it to be prematurely decorated for a boy… but the nursery was completely neutral in that respect. The walls of stone were covered with warm, brown tapestries, embroidered with images from fairy tales and children's stories. A rocking chair by a fire, a fully stocked library on the opposite wall. In the center of the room was the bassinet, made from polished oak, with a deep, royal blue setting of blankets and fabrics. Ingrid wandered to it, running her fingers over some of the ruffles that covered the edges. Silk. "I decided on blue because they are Stormcloak colors," he explained, his voice softer than usual, "but if you would like to change them, I will send for whatever color you'd like."

"Ulfric," she began, completely in disbelief. "It's wonderful." She looked to a fine bed that had been placed against a wall, presumably for herself or a wet nurse or nanny. "It's… so thoughtful."

He shrugged, wandering around the room himself. "I may have been slightly over excited to learn I would be a father," he admitted, Ingrid now gazing at the golden etchings that ran along the tops of the walls. "If you follow from start to finish," he explained, noticing where Ingrid was looking, "it tells a story of a hunter's daughter who went on to free her people and save the world." He was right. The etchings did tell a story. Hers.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked. "I was so worried about setting up the nursery…"

"I was hoping to surprise you," he said. "And when you're caught off guard, your nose goes pink. It's becoming."

She threw her hands up to her face, covering her nose. "It does not!" She insisted, knowing fully well it did. He laughed at this, a soft one, and she slowly lowered her hands. "Thank you, Ulfric. This is… it's perfect."

He gave a shrug, moving to her and taking her hand, giving it a squeeze. "It isn't yet," he replied, "but it will be, once the child is born." He paused, letting her hand free, a little smile on his face. "I've been thinking of names."

"Really?" She asked, pleasantly surprised, an eyebrow raised.

"Hoag," he began, watching as she somewhat playfully crossed her arms, "after my father. And if it's a girl, I was thinking Solveig or... " he caught her gaze, "Ingrid, even."

She blinked. "Naming her after me?" She asked. "Don't you think that's a little vain?"

Ulfric shook his head. "I don't, no. If I were to name my son Ulfric, no one would bat an eye. You are the Dragonborn. It will be a fitting name." He reached up, scratching at his beard while Ingrid watched him. She was a little puzzled, honestly, that he thought nothing of naming their daughter after her. Many would shy away from that. Generally naming a girl after her grandmother was acceptable, but her living mother? Unless he expected her to die in childbirth - and not bloody likely, if Ingrid had any say in it. "Did you have any ideas?" He asked her.

Ingrid would be lying if she'd said she hadn't given it thought, but the _amount_ of thought was another matter. It was quickly becoming her favorite topic to think about when getting to sleep, trying to keep her mind off Farkas and how much she missed him. "Well, I've always liked Uffe for a boy," she suggested, watching as Ulfric gave a nod of acknowledgement, "but Erika is a nice name, I think, it's soft, but strong enough to be taken seriously when needed."

"You have plans for any daughter of ours then?" He asked.

"Of course I do," she laughed. "And you don't?"

Ulfric shrugged, beginning to walk around the room. "I think of a daughter now, and I can picture her ruling as we do, leading Skyrim into battle, commanding armies… but I know…" he gave an exhale. "I am not entirely made of stone, Ingrid, as you may have figured out. I know I will hold any daughter of mine in my arms and want to lock her in a tower, away from harm." He shot her a quick glance. "Not that I would ever do such a thing. Calm down," he prematurely warned her.

Looking down to the floor, Ingrid smiled to herself in silence for a moment. "I feel like I should apologise to you," she finally said, looking up to watch him, "I had… well, I assumed you didn't care for children."

"You would not be the first to make such an assumption," he chuckled, inspecting the spine of a book that sat in the shelves. "I thought the same of myself for a long time. And then…" Ulfric paused. "Sometimes, life decides to teach you a lesson." Ingrid didn't speak, instead just raising an eyebrow curiously, waiting for him to continue. "I suppose I should tell you, not that it's of any consequence now." He pursed his lips for a moment, frowning, as if struggling to tell her. "This is not my first child."

* * *

Ulfric had told her everything in the nursery, and Ingrid had spent the next day thinking it over. _"In my youth,_ " she recalled in his voice,

" _I was a soldier. I did as the soldiers did, drinking in victory, drinking in defeat, drinking to drinking… as young men do. Not long after the war, when we were still unsure if it would stay so peaceful, we stopped at an inn not so far from Solitude. A drink for the lost, we decided. One drink turned into two, then to five, then to ten. I drank myself sick, thinking no one would see me in that state but the men - we'd all gotten ourselves that way that night._

 _Well, as it turned out, the Innkeeper had a daughter there. And, well, I thought she was just the maid. She heard me being ill the next morning and brought a bucket for me. Once I was done being sick and begging Talos to kill me, I realised she was…"_

Ingrid looked away from the fire, which she had been staring into for a while now, glancing to Thali. Thali hadn't been in the best way, and nothing had changed. Her handmaiden sat in silence, a sadness in her eyes as she continued at her needlework. "Everything okay, Thali?" She asked.

Somewhat startled, the girl looked up from her needlework. "Um… yes, My Lady," she replied, smile on her lips not matching her eyes. "Yes, I'm just tired, that is all. So much to do with the coronation so close."

As silence settled once more, Ingrid found herself staring into the fire again.

" _I thought she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I thought she was Dibella herself. I would have been too shy to talk to her, but she had already seen me sick into a bucket, so I took the risk._

 _I would ride to the Inn every week or so to see her. I wanted to marry her, and I was so in love with her that I didn't think twice of asking my father. He refused it. I had forgotten I was the Jarl's son, it seemed, and he wasn't having me marry an Innkeeper's daughter. I told him I wouldn't see her again, but even then, I was stubborn. I would still ride to meet with her in secret. And all the sneaking around behind our parent's backs… well, it is exciting. We stopped being so courtley._

 _When she told me she was with child, I was excited at first. I thought my father would surely relent now that she was carrying his grandchild. He just stood there, that same stern expression on his face, and said "It will be seen to. Don't you worry." Not long after I received a letter from her. She said I'd ruined her life and she wanted nothing more to do with me._

 _Eventually I learned the truth, of course. My father had gone to her parents and offered them a very large sum for their silence. She was sent away - to where, I'm not sure. Probably some kind of Temple or farm in the far south - and once the baby had weaned it was taken away. That was the end of it. She married not long after, I'm told, and I don't know what happened to her after that. And as for the child? It could be anywhere. I'll never know._

 _Helka. Her name was Helka. Her hair was the color of rust."_

Ingrid found her eyes drawn to Thali's hair, that slight jealousy bubbling up again. Red hair. Always so mythical, it drove men wild. Although, honestly, Ingrid was strange enough. If she had red hair they might have called her a witch - and not the good kind that goes to the college in Winterhold. "Do you think I should dye my hair?" She suddenly asked, the handmaiden looking up from her needlework curiously. "The Khajiit make this dye out of some kind of flowers and berries, they use it on their fur but I know some have used it on their own hair."

"A redhead?" Thali asked, a little coy smile on her lips. "Why would you want that?" She asked. "Your hair is beautiful."

Ingrid shrugged. "I don't know. I've always liked red hair."

Thali shook her head, looking back down to her needlework, the sadness returning to her face. "Don't change it," she said quietly. "I've heard that it's one of your husband's favorite things about you."

* * *

It was a very, very rare day indeed. The coronation was tomorrow and Ulfric was in such high spirits entertaining all their guests that he'd allowed Ingrid to ride with Farkas outside the city. Ingrid had been so excited at the thought of not only leaving the city walls, but spending time alone with Farkas to speak freely that she hadn't questioned his odd change of heart at all and was in such a rush to leave that Farkas had to lead her back inside by the arm to get her riding cloak.

It was a small sample of it, but the freedom Ingrid was allowed that day was exhilarating. The sooner this baby business was over and done with, the better. They came to a small hunter's hut, abandoned for the winter, though left unlocked - probably an act of charity by it's owner for any lost wanderers. Ingrid dropped down off her hoarse, revelling in the feeling of the cold snot reaching up to her shins. She wanted to roll around in it, to get soaking wet in it and then warm herself by a campfire like she was used to. Instead, though, reminding herself how expensive this cloak was, she let herself in the hunt as her housecarl tied their horses nearby.

"Well, they certainly kept it as shelter only," she remarked, removing her gloves once inside. The shelves that were clearly for food, tools, books and herbs were all empty. There was no bed, but a sizeable pile of hay in the corner - which, honestly, was a step up from a lot of the places that Ingrid had slept in her life. Still, though, whoever had left the hut unattended had at least left the fire stocked with kindling, with extra to the side of the fireplace. How thoughtful.

She heard Farkas step inside the hut and close the door behind him before she felt she could speak freely. "I wanted to apologise," she said, turning around. However, before she could finish, he took her face in his hands, his lips crashing against hers, kissing her with a hunger that she knew would soon match her own.

"No," he said. "After. Let's have this moment for ourselves," he backed her up against the empty benchtop and effortlessly lifted her on to it without a single protest from her, his fingers unclasping her cloak and letting it fall behind her. He quickly made work undressing her, pulling at the various types and clasps of her bodice, pulling her undershirts over her head, leaving her before him in nothing but her underskirt. He kissed her again, taking his time, both of their breathes long and desperate. "I love you," he whispered, kissing her neck, her shoulder, moving to her chest, between her breasts, down her torso… he stopped, placing his palms either side of her bellybutton. "Divines, I hope it's mine."

Ingrid's breath caught in her throat. "What? No, Farkas, you don't-"

"I do," he insisted. "Let Stormcloak kill me. I don't care." He smiled and planted a kiss between his palms. "I haven't stopped wanting you for a second. It eats at me, keeps me awake, like the beast blood did. It's all I want to do," he growled, moving up to kiss her again, undoing his belt, her legs already wrapping around him, "I want to fight with you, lay with you." He moved her skirts until he had access to her, and her head was swimming and every part of her body felt flushed and she could feel him rubbing against her and she felt as though she were drowning in hot water. "I want to fuck you," he growled into her ear, pausing to nip at it as he entered her, waiting for her to draw her breath at the feeling, "I want to fill you with-"

He couldn't finish. She was so lost in this that she was pure instinct now, grabbing his head by the hair and pulling him to her, kissing him so hard that she worried for a second that she'd draw blood. He responded by biting her lip as he began to rock with her - gently at first as she relaxed to him. Her legs tightened around him, guiding him closer to her until he let out a deep groan, the kind she hadn't heard since he had the blood. He pulled her off the bench, lifting under her backside, carrying her around his waist to the pile of hay in the corner.

Clumsily they collapsed on to it, Ingrid on top of him, still with him inside her. Not missing a moment she began to ride him, knowing how to do so like it was part of her very being, something that was in her structure. Her palms lay against his chest as his hands rested on her backside, gripping them with every movement of her hips. She dug her nails into his skin and he groaned through gritted teeth, bringing his hands around her waist and pushing and pulling, goading her into riding him harder and faster.

He suddenly sat himself up to sit upright, her face close to his, taking her and kissing her as she continued to ride him, her chest rubbing against his. With every roll of the hips she moaned without reservation now, his deep breaths more and more raggard to match. "Please," she moaned clinging to him for dear life.

He knew what she wanted. She always wanted him to mark her, as though it was the last remnant of her beast blood. "We can't," he breathed back. "Stormclo-"

"Fuck him," she hissed, venom in her voice. " _Please,_ mark me," she moaned into his mouth before kissing him again, "mark me as yours."

He couldn't resist, reaching his hand to the top of her back. He dug his nails in and clawed down, hard enough to draw blood as she threw her head back, crying out, desperately grinding her hips against him as she came, her face flushing pink and her eyes tightening as she whimpered his name, pulling him over the edge with her as he pulled her against him and buried his face into her neck.

They sat in that position for a while, melting into each other, her sighs and cooes quietning with each breath, her lips leaving a gentle trail of kisses along his jaw. "I love you," she whispered, bringing her forehead to rest against his. "But Divines, I'm so scared."

"Don't be," he replied, his thumb moving to her face, tracing over her lips, as if to remember their shape. "I'll protect you."

"And I'll protect you," she promised. "I'll be Queen as of tomorrow, I can do whatever I like. Make you a Lord, even."

He smirked at this, brushing her hair out of her face. "That wouldn't be suspicious," he laughed. "Mmm… Queen…" he licked his lips. "The Wolf Queen."

"More like the Queen and her Wolf," she replied, a warm, dreamy smile on her face.

"We just have to do something about the bear," he said with an exhale before kissing her again, the two of them falling back into the hay.


	14. Rebellion

_Starting to bring this all together. Ohhhwooooo_

* * *

A crown on her head and a staff in her hand, Ingrid felt her breath catch in her throat as she looked over the packed rows of the Temple. Even with all the preparation, nothing could have readied her for this. The choir, the deafening applause and cheer, Ulfric's hand squeezing hers. She looked to her husband, his face a washed in contentment in a way she'd never seen on him before. This was it, everything he wanted. And for her? It was… nothing that she'd ever asked for.

Still, as overwhelming as it hard to not be excited. The dress she wore, for one, was the heaviest thing she'd ever worn, the fabric rich and embroidered all over. It had taken twenty seamstresses to finish it for her, according to Thali. Even the heavy crown on her head, made of Dragon bone to match her husband's, acted as a reminder to her. Something during the coronation had become abundantly clear to her: sher wasn't just the Dragonborn now, and even though she thought she would more or less be Queen in name she knew now that she'd be anything but. Even if Ulfric expected her to sit around and look pretty until she gave him a child, shre couldn'd do that now. These were her people, too. She had a duty to them now.

"Freedom for Skyrim!" She suddenly heard from the backm even over the music and the applause. She tried to see who it was, but before she could, there was a scream, and suddenly people were rising from their seats in a panic. She gasped, standing and rising with Ulfric, who already had his arm in front of her to protect her.

Smoke. She could smell smoke. "Fire!" She gasped over the noise, her husband giving a nod. She looked to Farkas, who had already drawn his sword and was eyeing off… well, she had no idea who they were. They looked Breton, but she couldn't be sure in So much effort to make sure she looked perfect. Ingrid wondered if that was what Ulfric would expect of her now that she was High Queen, to sit around and look the part. Before she may have been content doing just that. After all, she'd never exactly chased the title, nor did she have any idea what she'd do with it. Something about sitting on this throne, though, gave her perspective. These people saw her as their Queen now, and they'd just sworn fealty to her and her husband, and she… felt she owed them for it. She was used to helping everyone, of course. Being Dragonborn had seen to that over time. But she never felt that it was her duty to help, more just something she chose to do.

All of this, though - the crown, the choir, the finery and splendor - meant that this was her responsibility now. At least that was how she felt. If Ulfric expected her to sit around and smile and nod until she delivered him a child, he was in for a surprise.

Her train of thought paused when she caught the scent of smoke. At first Ingrid thought it may be incense, but as she continued to inhale it she felt herself tense. It was fire. Something was on fire. There was a scream and she realised she wasn't the only one to notice as the applause turned to panic. "Down with Ulfric Stormcloak!" Someone cried from the back as more screams erupted. The guard began to shout orders and commands, and it was only moments until the familiar sound of metal on metal, sword on sword rang through the temple.

She stood, looking to Ulfric, who was already on his feet with an arm extended in front of her, calling to her housecarl. Farkas already had his sword drawn, kicking one of their assailants to the ground, sizing up the room. "Get her out of here," he called to Ulfric. "Freedom Fighters!"

Ulfric gave a nod, grabbing Ingrid by the arm, "come," he ordered, pulling her away from the thrones, the two of them running for the priest's quarters of the Temple. "There is a passage through the-" he was cut off by a figure standing in the doorway to their escape, armed with a sword, ready to lunge. Before Ingrid could even think to react, Ulfric pulled her to him, releasing a shout and throwing the attacker backwards and against a wall.

They ran through the priest's quarters and Ulfric opened a trap door, gesturing for her to climb down. "You go first," he said, looking around, every one of his senses on high alert. "If you see _anyone,_ shout." Unwilling to argue and understanding the danger, Ingrid obliged, making her way down the steps and into the near darkness, Ulfric waiting a moment before following her, closing the trap door behind them.

"The halls of the dead," she observed, finally processing the situation enough to speak. Part of her was ashamed for her delayed response time. Usually she was ready to battle at the drop of a coin. Now, though, it had taken her minutes to come to, to grasp what was happening. Had she become too comfortable in courtly life? Was this to do with the fact she was carrying a child? "This is a lovely way to spend our own coronation."

He paused, taking a torch from the wall. "I'm glad you're finding the humor in this," he grumbled, moving to the embalming table. He took a knife, inspecting it before nodding to himself, deciding it was suitable. "If they managed to enter the Temple, Windhelm isn't safe yet." He gestured to one of the tunnels, leading into the crypts. "The crypts eventually open near the docks. We'll just need to find somewhere safe to stay until-"

"Agna's Mill," she interrupted. "Aeri's an old friend, helped me build my homestead," Ingrid explained as Ulfric began to lead her down into the crypt. "We'll be safe there."

"How do we know she isn't a Freedom Fighter?" He asked, swatting away some cobweb.

Ingrid didn't respond. She didn't know.

* * *

If Aeri was a Freedom Fighter, she was a hospitable one. She gave them beds in the Common House and sent one of her lumberjacks to carry word back to Farkas - and only Farkas. Ulfric was insistent on that. Usually Ingrid would dismiss his paranoia, but at the moment she couldn't help but feel it was somewhat warranted. This wasn't an enemy that wore a uniform the way the Imperials did. Anyone could be a Freedom Fighter.

Leifur, one of the woodcutters, ate with them. Initially he'd been a little awestruck by the company of Ulfric Stormcloak, but he'd settled, and was now doing his best to keep the mood somewhat light - a monumental task given that they were in their stained and torn coronation finery. Ingrid had taken a sword to hers, cutting off the train of the dress, quickly tiring of the weight and impracticality of it all. She dreaded to think what Thali would say.

"We had the Freedom Fighters come through here not long ago," he explained, "inviting people to their meetings. Neither of us were interested, we're not really fans of politics. Most smallfolk aren't, really, now that the war is over. I think we're all a bit tired."

Ingrid exhaled, stirring at the stew in her bowl. "There sure was a lot of people attacking at the Temple. Someone's joining."

Leifur gave a nod, wiping his mouth after taking a swig of his mead. "Oh, they are. I was visiting family in Dawnstar and there was a group of about four of them in the Inn, trying to gather recruits. Saying things about Ulfric- uh, King Stormcloak having a…" he trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable, aware Ulfric was watching him carefully. "...That there's another claim to the throne, a better suited ruler."

"Did they say who?" Ingrid asked. Leifur shook his head.

Ulfric finally cleared his throat. "I was aware they were recruiting," he said, leaning forward, "but not that they were going as far as to visit mills. I thank you for remaining loyal and giving us shelter."

Eventually, Leifur left the two alone, off to speak to Aegis about tomorrow's work. Ingrid sat herself down by the fire, hugging her knees, her thumbs vacantly running over some of the embroidery of her dress. "We shouldn't be surprised," she laughed to herself. "It can never be easy."

"No," he agreed. "When we return to Windhelm I will send you into hiding with your handmaiden and housecarl," he announced.

"You'll do no such thing!" She snapped. "I'm not going to flee. What kind of message does that send? I'll stay in Windhelm."

He tensed his jaw. "You are Queen, now," he reminded her. "You can manage now, but what about when you are heavy with child? How will you defend yourself? Things are different now."

"I'm still the Dragonborn," she insisted, her voice raising, the threat of a full blown argument imminent. "I won't leave. End of discussion."

There was a silence, and although she knew he was debating pushing it further, he decided against it. "And what of your handmaiden?" He asked. "She is at risk, too."

Ingrid thought it odd that she'd bring Thali up. But knowing Ulfric, it was a last ditch attempt at trying to sway her. "That's up to her. If she wishes to hide, I'll send her to the Companions. They'll keep her safe. She is, after all, engaged to one."

"Yes," Ulfric exhaled. "I suppose she is."

* * *

A party of twenty or so had come to collect them, Galmar and Farkas leading it. Ingrid knew trouble was awaiting her in Whiterun, but nothing prepared her for the sight of the Temple in ashes as they rode past. There was a long silence after that, Ulfric not saying a word, departing the group when they arrived and leaving Ingrid to her own devices.

"I can't believe what they did to the Temple," she said to Farkas as he walked her to her quarters. She wasn't to be out of his sight now - not that she entirely minded this. "They burned it to the ground. Did you get any of them?"

He gave a nod, walking with her up the palace steps. "Five or six. Have them held in the keep. Killed four of them in the battle," he explained. "But the ones we have are keeping quiet. Won't say a word."

Ingrid exhaled as she came to her room. "They're as good as dead. If they won't talk, Ulfric will have them executed. No question about that." She paused, realising Thali wasn't there to greet her. "How's Thali?"

"Few scrapes, a bit shocked, but otherwise fine." Farkas chuckled to himself, a little smile on his lips, "my brother has been practically glued to her since."

She looked around for a second before rushing to the door, surprising Farkas a little as she closed it, a wry smile on her face. "I think Thali is related to Ulfric."

The housecarl raised an eyebrow. "Like a cousin?" He asked. "Not unusual for Royalty to keep relatives at court."

"No," she shook her head, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Ulfric has a bastard."

"Really?" He asked, before giving a singular nod. "Doesn't seem like the type."

Ingrid nodded, seeming somewhat excited to tell someone. "It's true! He told me all about it. He fell in love with this Innkeeper's daughter and… well, a baby happened. _And,_ " she interjected, raising a finger as she explained her incredibly clever theory, "the Innkeeper's daughter? Her hair was red, like rust. Like _Thali's._ "

Farkas nodded along, eventually crossing his arms. "You know, now that I think about it? It makes sense. I see them talking sometimes," he explained, "sometimes in the halls, sometimes by his war room or quarters, always in whispers. And she was pretty worried about him when you two had to split off."

"Exactly! He was worried about her, too," she agreed.

He smirked to himself, taking a seat on one of the lounges of her quarters. "Well, that certainly makes me feel a little bit better." He paused, eyeing her. "You should bathe. And put on something clean."

Ingrid frowned. "Since when do _you_ worry about- oh," she laughed, shaking her head. "Not in my quarters, Farkas," she giggled. "You're playing with fire."

* * *

The Freedom Fighters were causing great stress to Ulfric. They were organised, unpredictable and _angry,_ which were things Ulfric should have had a handle on. Unlike the Stormcloaks, though, they were small in numbers. Freedom Fighters worked in secret, attacking at random all over Skyrim. One week it was a trade caravan going to Whiterun, the next it was a field patrol of Stormcloak soldiers near Markarth.

Ulfric's response was to try and quash the entire movement before it could gain steam by banning their meetings and arresting anyone suspected of taking part. The only issue with that was that the movement has already gained enough steam for his persecution of the Freedom Fighters to be even more controversial. It seemed as though he upped things every week. Houses were raided, businesses seized. Eventually, he made a decree that Freedom Fighters would be referred to as Imperial Sympathisers. A clever name, Ingrid thought, if it worked. Imperials were still the antagonists in Skyrim - associating a rebellion with them would lose them support.

As for Ingrid's input… well, she'd had little. Despite promising her that he would include her in military matters, he continued to 'neglect' to tell her when the meetings were called. When it came to Ulfric, he seemed less interested in her opinions on war and more interested in surprising her with gifts. So, as she had before, Ingrid began to employ her feminine wiles. A particularly low cut blouse saw to it that the non-humans of Windhelm were allowed to retain their freedoms, even if the Freedom Fighters _did_ have a high number of non-human recruits. Bringing him a warm cup of mead and a kiss as he spent another late night at his writing desk saw that the prisoners he _did_ keep were permitted to bathe. Waiting for him in his bed for him to return from his work guaranteed that no more torture would be used to extract confessions.

What truly concerned Ingrid though was that the more time she gave to Ulfric, the more she forgot that she was almost always playing some kind of game of wits with him. In fact, it was more and more like they were husband and wife than anything else. She stopped resenting his company, and found his presence comforting. So when she returned to her quarters and saw Farkas asleep on her lounge, waiting for her to return, she almost felt guilty. Farkas knew he'd have to share her for the time being, but she worried she was getting too close to Ulfric on occasion, as though enjoying his company was in some way being unloyal to her lover.

Ulfric, though, had become less and less partial to keeping her locked away within the palace, finding tasks for her around the city. Most of them were diplomatic in nature, sure, but she hardly minded them. Anything that didn't involve running into some kind of dungeon or haunted keep to retrieve some kind of spoon that had been in someone's family for generations was a welcome task. Often, though, the locals were happy to see her around, and more than happy to compile all their complaints in the world on to her. A good way to placate the population of Windhelm, she decided.

This particular day, though, she was visiting the Tavern and hearing the gossip from the locals, mostly about the quest to squash the rebellion before it could become too serious. It was funny how their definition of serious was so different from Ulfric's. "Terrible stuff," Elda said, wiping down the top of her bench, "the war was bad, but your man must be angry about this one. Had a rebel travel through here yesterday, actually," she recalled. "Or, well, _ex_ rebel now, I suppose. Not going to be holding any swords with his thumbs."

"What do you mean?" Ingrid asked.

"Broken, both of them," Elda sighed, "thumbscrews. Terrible inventions."

Ingrid fell silent, her shoulders tightening as she glanced to Farkas. "...They used thumbscrews?" She asked.

Elda gave a nod, speaking dismissively about the whole thing, as though it were nothing. "Oh yes, of course," she said with a shrug, "have to get information somehow, I suppose." Elda paused, taking note of the expression on Ingrid's face. "Your boys were good, though. Once he confessed they let him go with his life."

"That's not the point," Ingrid said under her breath, before giving a quick nod to Elda. "Thank you, Elda. I'll be back next week." With that, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the Hall, Farkas following her, slightly bewildered.

"Ingrid!" He called after her, trying to keep up without running.

"He promised me," she called back, on an obvious mission as she strode to the gates of the Palace grounds. "He _promised_ me, Farkas. No more torture." She stormed past the guards, none of them willing to challenge her, not with _that_ fire in her eyes as she slammed her palms against the palace doors to open them.

By now, people were actively moving out of her way, and while Farkas continued to follow her into the residential wing, he eventually stopped, knowing better than to challenge her. Ingrid was _furious._ She had gone as far as letting Ulfric bed her again for this promise and he'd broken it. If he thought she was going to let it slide, he was wrong. It would be a miracle if she didn't shout him out of a window.

She came up on his quarters, noticing there were no guards by his doors - unusual, although he often dismissed them when he needed privacy or a nap. Good, she thought. If he was asleep, this would be a great way for her to wake him up. She pushed the doors open and stepped inside to see her husband…

Ingrid froze, whatever words that were in her mouth evaporating into nothing but a gasp as the air in her lungs seemed to freeze solid. Her handmaiden was bent over the side of the bed, her face buried in the blankets as Ingrid's husband thrust into her from behind. The two were so wrapped up into their illicit lovemaking that they hadn't even noticed Ingrid enter, as evidenced by the way Ulfric spoke to Thali as he had his way with the girl, who was lost in her own moaning and crooning. "Inside me," she begged, her words muffled.

Ingrid watched in shock as her husband gave a deep, guttural growl and gripped her backside as his pace sped up. "I want to fuck you full of my seed," he panted, Thali's whimpers of approval emerging from the mattress, "fill you with my children…"

At this stage, Ingrid was horrified. Not only was an affair playing out in front of her, but Ulfric was going to climax any second and the rage building within her didn't want him to have that satisfaction. Not knowing what to say, Ingrid did the next best thing - she reached out and grabbed the nearest object in a display case. A vase. And once she had a hold of it, she smashed it against the ground.

She wasn't sure what to expect of him once Ulfric finally noticed her. What does a man do when he sees his wife standing by the doorway, her eyes wide and inexplicably misty at the sight of him bedding her handmaiden? Ingrid wasn't sure what to do herself. But there was at least a minute of complete silence without any movement, the only sound being the heavy breathing of Thali beneath him. It was when Thali raised her head in confusion and saw Ingrid that things began to progress. The handmaiden gave a scream of fright, pulling herself away from Ulfric in a scramble, quickly throwing herself beneath the covers to hide her modesty.

"Ingrid," Ulfric finally said, his voice careful, not a shout. Not an order. Thali had already began to cry, and while Ingrid _wanted_ to, she refused. More silence spare for Thali's shaking sobs.

Eventually, Ingrid took a deep breath, her hands in fists. "My handmaiden?" She asked, her voice wavering, but not shouting at him. "Of all the people you could have…" she trailed off, catching eye contact with Thali. "How long?" She asked, quickly shaking her head. "Nevermind, I don't want to know."

Ulfric took a deep breath. "Ingrid, it is… it is complex."

"You're not wrong," she replied. She looked to Thali now, who was practically shivering, before shaking her head. Ingrid turned around and left his quarters without another word.

It felt wrong. She shouldn't have been shaken by this at all. Of course Ulfric would come to take a lover once day. ...One day, though. Not so soon. And not her handmaiden - not someone she thought was one of her closest friends. Part of her thought she was hypocritical to be upset at all. After all, had she not been doing this with Farkas the whole time?

She sat on her bed in her quarters, trying to process it. She had no right to be mad. Yet, here she was, fighting back tears. Maybe it was the betrayal from a friend. If he'd been with anyone else it wouldn't have hurt so much, but she'd trusted Thali so dearly. Maybe it was just the shock of actually seeing it. Finding out your husband has a lover is one thing, actually _seeing_ it happen is another.

Or maybe it was the realisation that Ulfric had been trying to make her fall in love with him, and that seeing him with someone else made her realise that it had been working.


	15. Confession

_Short chapter. Really busy weekend but I had stuff I wanted to leave you with._  
 _Also, content warning: spousal violence here._

* * *

The next two days were spent in relative silence, her only real company being Farkas, who came to her daily to accompany her on walks around the palace and city. Thali came to her door every now and then, as was her duty as a handmaiden, but only to bring her food and check on her. Ingrid sent her away as soon as the food was placed down. They didn't look each other in the eye.

"You want to talk about it, I can tell," Farkas said once in her quarters as she sat on her seat by the fire, thinking.

"I don't," was her only response.

Her Housecarl shook his head, disappointed. "You know how I can tell?" He asked her. "You sit like him. Like Ulfric. The same look on your face." Maybe he was right, she thought, having found self awareness. She laid back in her seat, somewhat sprawled, her weight to one side and her elbow on the armrests, her hand vacantly toying with some decorative beads she was wearing. No doubt her face had been dark. She felt it. "It's eating at you, Love."

At least Ulfric was easier to avoid than Thali. He was so busy with the rebellion that she would entirely miss him if she stayed out of the war room. Galmar had asked her opinion on a few things, but she'd spoken to him separately. She wasn't ready to face Ulfric yet. Not with her temper, anyway.

She gave a sigh, shifting in her seat, trying so hard to loosen herself somewhat. "I'm not angry that he… well, I am," she sighed. "It's not about the sex though."

"It's the betrayal," he finished, nodding along. "I get it. Two people who you trusted did something behind your back." Farkas paused. "...Guess this means she's not his bastard, then."

"I guess not," Ingrid laughed to herself, gazing out the window. "...Get Thali for me," she finally relented, turning back to him and smoothing out her skirt. "You're right. It's been eating at me. I need to deal with it."

Farkas dutifully set off, eventually returning with the handmaiden, leaving the two alone - although Ingrid would be stupid if she thought he wasn't waiting on the other side of that door, just in case. Thali stood before Ingrid, looking downwards, fidgeting with her hands and in complete silence. Honestly, she looked more terrified than ashamed, which said a lot - as she looked _very_ ashamed.

Ingrid watched her for a few minutes, saying nothing, sizing her up, wondering if Thali would dare to speak first knowing what she'd done. Knowing how much trouble she was in. Finally Ingrid exhaled, her back straight in her seat, her voice firm and sharp. "You will pack your things and you will be sent to Whiterun under the care of the Companions," she announced, every single word blunt. "You will marry Vilkas as soon as it is convenient and you will never step foot in my court again. Do you understand me?" She asked. Thali gave a quick nod, her hand shooting to her face to wipe her eyes. She was shaking now. "You are never to contact my husband again under any circumstances. Any protection he might have afforded you before is dissolved. May the Gods help you if he's given you a bastard."

Thali choked in a sob, nodding, still not making eye contact. "Yes, Your Grace." The girl took a deep, shaky breath, before choking out a soft "I'm sorry."

"I trusted you!" Ingrid snapped, losing her cool, leaning forward. "You were my _friend,_ Thali. I trusted you to be there when I gave birth. I trusted you with everything. And you still kept this from me?" She shook her head. "How long?" She asked. "How long was this happening?"

Thali gave a shudder, tensing her shoulders. "Before you came to court," she squeaked.

"...What?" Ingrid felt her chest tighten.

"I…" she paused, sniffing in. "I was a scullery maid," she explained, "and he was always so kind, and he always said sweet things to me. And when he came back from Helgen alive, he…" she choked back another sob, her hands covering her eyes now. "He said that he loved me, and promised me everything. And I wanted to be angry when he told me he was marrying you instead of me, I did," she paused to gasp in air, as though her own words were choking her. "But he said it was just political, and that he'd keep me close, and make me your handmaiden. I didn't think we'd be friends, you and I," she sobbed, "and I felt so bad. But I loved him. I really did."

"Then why accept Vilkas' proposal?" She asked.

Thali shook her head. "I don't know. Ulfric… he'd stopped paying me much attention. He spent so much time with you, and talked about you so much." She paused, wiping her cheeks, her face red. "I was jealous and angry, so I did it out of spite… because I realised he loved _you,_ not me. And then not long ago he started calling on me again, and I thought that maybe… maybe he still…" she stopped herself talking now, bursting into tears.

Ingrid watched as she broke down, and although she really did feel for Thali, she couldn't bring herself to soften herself in front of her. Ulfric had played them both indeed, but it still felt like someone had hit her in the chest. "My husband doesn't love me," she stated frankly, "but even so he is _my_ husband and you betrayed me." She shook her head, not sure what else to say. "Leave. Pack your things. I will have transport arranged for you and cover the costs of your wedding if it's held within the next week." She paused, making sure Thali was watching her speak before continuing. "If you have conceived at all with my husband you have no time to waste. Consider this a mercy from me." She nodded to the door. "Go."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Thali stammered, quiet as a mouse before fleeing the room, leaving the door open in her haste. As soon as she was out of sight, Ingrid bent over in her seat, her hands over her mouth and her eyes wide, as though she'd seen a murder. By the time Farkas entered the room and closed the door behind him, her eyes were glossing over with tears.

He carefully approached her, slowly kneeling down in front of her to be on her eye level. "Seems like that went well," he offered, a gentle smile on his face. God things like that made her love him, at times he was a savage and passionate wolf but at others he was a goofy retriever. "You alright?"

"I thought I could trust her, Farkas," Ingrid whispered, staring ahead, not particularly at anything. "I don't get to have a lot of friends and…" she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to brace herself against the torrent of sobs she felt coming. "It hurts." She exhaled the breath, her shoulders dropping a little as Farkas' hand came to rest on her knee. "It was hardly even her fault. The whole thing, I mean. Ulfric… well, he's Ulfric. He tricked her."

"And you're surprised?" He asked.

"No. No, I'm not surprised," she explained. "Angry? Disappointed? Yes. But nothing about him surprises me anymore." She pursed her lips, finally looking Farkas in the eye. "Can you please arrange some transport for her to Whiterun?" She asked. "I'm sending her away to the Companions, and she'll marry Vilkas within the week if everything goes according to plan. ...I'm sorry that I'm going to lie to your brother."

He shook his head. "Don't be," he insisted. "Vilkas is head over heels for her. Finding this out would crush him." He paused, rubbing his hand along her leg. "Hey," he said, smiling at her. "It's the best place you could have sent her. Ulfric will stop using her and Vilkas will look after her." He chuckled to himself. "He'll treat her more like a Queen than any of us treat you, really."

Ingrid gave in, a little laugh escaping her, her hand grabbing his. "I know," she agreed. "I'll just miss her, that's all."

* * *

Although Ingrid had already began to miss Thali's presence, there was something nice about the tranquility of spending her evenings entirely alone. Farkas was at Hjerim for the night, getting much needed rest after such a trying few days, and Ingrid had dismissed her other handmaidens for the night. She'd have to choose a replacement for Thali soon, but she was putting it off. She'd even toyed with the idea of sending for Aela instead, but Aela would never leave the Companions for a Palace life. The idea of Aela helping Ingrid with her hair before public events was a laugh.

The quiet was nice, though. Her shoes off, laying on her lounge across from the fire. A book in one hand and the other on the bump that was beginning to show. Not so much through heavy court dresses or the bulky layers she'd wear around Windhelm, but more apparent than ever through her nightgown. It puzzled her yet amazed her that there was life in there. That she could do that. That soon she'd be a mother. Her feelings about pregnancy were changing day by day now that she'd started getting used to the heartburn.

Suddenly her door slammed open, Ingrid giving a jump in shock, turning to see Ulfric slam it shut behind him. "What have you done?" He asked through gritted teeth as she set down her book and sat up.

"I'm not sure. I can't read minds," she answered sarcastically. "What did I do?"

"Thali," he began, not taking his eyes off her as she rose from her lounge. "Where have you sent her?"

Ingrid tensed her jaw. "Away," she said, her voice blunt.

He gave a huff of hair, processing this. "You will bring her back," he ordered, his voice low, angry in a way she hadn't heard in years. "You had no right to send her away."

"That's a funny way to say "I'm sorry for having an affair with your handmaiden," Ulfric," she laughed with a roll of her eyes. "She's not coming back. You'll leave her alone and let her live her life."

"You," he began, pointing to her, slowly, clearly enraged, "will bring her _back_ and _never_ undermine my authority again. Do you understand?"

Ingrid shook her head. "I'll do no such thing."

He stormed up to her, standing over her, looming. As though she were the enemy. "I have been patient," he warned, his voice a growl, "I have been generous. I have given you freedoms beyond what is expected of me. I have been wrong in assuming you would know your place."

"You don't threaten me," she growled in return. "You'll find other women, Ulfric. Women you don't have to manipulate." She shook her head. "Just because you're a good liar doesn't mean you have to lie to everyone."

Next thing she knew, his hand was in her hair, gripping it tightly, and Ingrid was so shocked that she didn't fight back as he threw her to the lounge. "Enough," he ordered, reaching down and grabbing at her hair again, his other hand flying to her cover her mouth, knowing well that her next instinct was to shout him off her. "I have tried everything," he whispered as she struggled against him, fully aware that the bump she carried was scaring her from straining herself, "to make you mine. I gave you titles. I married you. I gave you a child." His grip on her hair tightened and she gave a yelp underneath his hand. "I did everything I could to get you to love me. But you _still_ undermine me, you _still_ cause me more trouble than you're worth. I told myself I wouldn't raise a hand to you, even knowing how frustrating you are, and I have never regretted it as much as I do right now." He threw her head forward, causing it to hit the back of the lounge, Ingrid crying out.

He stepped back and it was silent for a moment, Ingrid's arm now protecting her bump, the other covering her head. She wanted to shout, but her head was spinning and she was seeing stars, and it was such a small room that if she wasn't careful she'd hurt herself, too. After a few moments he spoke, his voice wavering. "Ingrid," he pleaded, stepping forward. It was now, when she glanced to him, that she realised he'd been staring at her in shock the whole time. "Ingrid… I… I'm so sorry…" he knelt beside her, sounding as though he was going to cry. "I didn't mean to… I…" his hand reached out to her but she flinched away.

"Don't touch me," she spat.

"I'm so sorry," he begged. "Forgive me, please, I just-" he was silent suddenly, and Ingrid wondered why for a moment before looking to him again. He was collapsed on the floor, someone standing behind him, something blunt in their hand. Farkas? No. Too thin. Her vision was fuzzy.

"Your Grace," the voice whispered, leaning down and pulling her arm from her face to see her properly. A woman. She was beautiful, but not someone she'd seen before. "It seems my timing is impeccable." Before Ingrid could speak, the woman's hand was over her mouth and nose, a cloth smothering her. She could breathe, but it was… something strong… making her dizzy… sleepy…

"For the Freedom of Skyrim," was the last thing she heard, whispered in her ear as she faded out of consciousness.


	16. Documents

"Well, look who's awake," a voice joked as Ingrid began to stir. At first she'd thought she'd been in her own bed, but on opening her eyes, she began to remember - and she began to panic. She kicked her legs out, feeling blankets and sheets covering them. Her legs were free, but when she tried to move her arms she realised her wrists were bound together. More importantly, though, there was something on her face. A gag. "Easy now," the voice cooed, a hand slipping under her back and helping her sit up. "I'm not going to hurt you."

It was the same woman as before, which didn't exactly make Ingrid feel easy, but it made her realise that she was probably dangerous, too. Not someone to be tried. Her panic beginning to subside as she gained her bearings, Ingrid began to calm, looking around the area. A cave of some kind, a hideout. Well lit by candles, the space with this bed sectioned off from whatever was on the other side of the bars that had been haphazardly set up.

Her captor didn't look like a captor at first glance. She looked a Nord, her skin pale and hair blonde, but a strawberry blonde. Not the yellowy blonde of Ingrid's hair. If Ingrid were to guess her age, she wouldn't be much older. Perhaps in the later part of twenty winters? Twenty seven, perhaps. Although her touch was gentle, her shoulders were broad, giving a good hint of how muscular she was beneath the armour and furs she wore. She smiled softly, her brown eyes giving her face a warmth as she spoke. "Now, I've got some food for you," she began, ignoring the glare Ingrid was giving her, "and Retta makes the _best_ Horker stew you'll ever taste - and trust me, I have been _around,_ " she laughed, "but if take that gag off, you've got to promise me you won't shout at me, ok?" She asked, raising her palms to Ingrid as she continued, "because, look, you'd probably knock me out cold, but I've got like fifty other people down here and they'd get angry and you'd get angry and they'd overpower you and, look, it'd be a mess. And I just want to help, okay? So, can you promise me that?"

Ingrid sized her up as she spoke, but she realised that this woman was right. Even if she shouted her dead, others would come for her, and killing whoever this was would probably make them less hospitable. And now that she thought about it and could smell the stew, she _was_ hungry - and she had a baby to think about. Ingrid reluctantly gave a nod and the woman reached behind her head and untied the gag, freeing Ingrid. "Where am I?" She blurted as soon as she was able.

"A Freedom Fighter base," she laughed, reaching to the bedside table and taking the soup bowl, the smell making Ingrid's mouth water. How long had she been out? "That's all I can tell you for now, but you're nowhere near Windhelm."

"And who are you?" She asked.

The woman took the spoon from the soup and offered it to Ingrid. Although she'd been hoping to use her own hands to eat, Ingrid was now too eager to protest, taking the spoon in her mouth. "Katrin," she replied, waiting a moment before taking the spoon back to the bowl to load it with more. She waited until the spoon was back in Ingrid's mouth before continuing. "Leader of the Freedom Fighters."

Ingrid muffled something into the spoon before Katrin could remove it, repeating it once the spoon was gone. "Leader?"

Katrin laughed. "Well, you know, they call me that," she said with a shrug, spooning more into Ingrid's mouth, "but I prefer to think of the Freedom Fighters as more of a collective, you know? Fighting for a really, _really_ independant Skyrim." She paused, frowning. "This isn't working," she announced, setting the bowl back down, the spoon still in Ingrid's mouth. "Don't tell anyone, but I'm going to untie your hands. You're a prisoner, not a baby," she took Ingrid's wrists and unbound them, winking at the Dragonborn. "Just don't kill me. How old are you, by the way?"

Very confused and slightly bewildered, Ingrid watched as Katrin handed her the bowl of stew before taking the spoon from her own mouth and stirring a little. "Twenty-one winters," she replied.

Katrin scoffed, raising her lip into a sneep and looking away. "Of course he'd marry someone that young. Of course."

"...Why are you trusting me so much?" Ingrid asked. "You just said it. I'm a prisoner. I could attack you right now."

Katrin shrugged, crossing one leg over the other. Ingrid recognised her boots and leggings. Hunting wear. Was the leader of the rebellion a hunter? Not an ex military leader like Ulfric had suggested - but a regular _hunter?_ "You could," she agreed. "But you're smarter than that, and I'm here to try to sell you on the whole rebellion thing." When Ingrid raised a confused eyebrow, she continued. "I know, sounds crazy, right? Look, it's non-committal and what you do with the information we give you is your choice," she explained. "And when your husband," she paused, pointing to her, "who I had no idea was a wife beater, by the way. That's news to me."

"And to me," Ingrid sighed.

"Well, when he comes to collect you - or your housecarl does, whoever, I'm not fussed, - we'll let you go. No demands. No ransom." She gave a content smile as Ingrid enjoyed more of the stew. "All I ask is that you let us tell you what we're about."

Maybe it was the soup talking - and Katrin hadn't been wrong about how good it was - but Ingrid thought this entirely reasonable, if not bizarre and unusual. "And how will they find me?"

"We'll drop you off to a mutual spot. Little farmhouse. You'll be fine there for a day without us. Gotta leave buffer time to get out so we aren't ambushed by an army of fifty, you know?" Katrin waited for Ingrid to finish the stew, taking the bowl from her when she was done. "Wow, you wolfed that down," she laughed.

"And what's the point of this?" She asked. "I'm the High Queen of Skyrim. I can't exactly join you."

Katrin nodded, standing, offering her hand to Ingrid to help her from the bed. "You could, but it would be messy." She gestured to a trunk in the corner. "There's some clothes in there for you. Kept the tops flowy to accommodate for the bun in the oven, so no corsets, but I also figured you might like a pair of pants after wearing dresses for so long." She laughed to herself. "No idea how you do it, honestly. Put me in a dress and my thighs are red-raw in an hour. I'll uh, leave you to get changed and come back in a few."

Ingrid was entirely taken by surprise. Everything Katrin had done was so kind, and Ingrid kept expecting there to be some kind of catch, but there was none. The food was good, the bed had been warm and comfortable and they even provided her with clothes. And most of all, Katrin trusted her from the start. "Thank you," she finally said. "This has been so kind of you."

Katrin stopped by the door of the bars, turning to face Ingrid. "Well, we've got a lot in common, you and I. Wouldn't feel right to treat you badly."

Ingrid smiled softly, "a hunter, right?" she asked, nodding at Katrin's boots. "I used to dress the same."

"Well spotted," Katrin laughed. "I was a hunter, yes, for a long time it was my living… but it's not just that," she said, a smirk on her face. "You could say we both have a bit of Ulfric in us."

Ingrid blinked. "Excuse me?"

Katrin shrugged casually, unlocking the door as she spoke. "Well, you're carrying his baby, right?" She asked, before turning to her again, spreading her arms open. "Ulfric Stormcloak's bastard. You're looking at her."

* * *

Katrin showed Ingrid around select parts of the base, but Ingrid absorbed very little of that information, instead entirely distracted by Katrin herself. The more she looked at her, the less question there was that she was Ulfric's daughter, no matter how illegitimate. The way she walked, the determination in her eye when talking about victories, her _laugh._ Just like Ulfric she demanded the command of any room she was in, although she was somewhat more relaxed than her father.

Ulfric was charismatic, yes, but Katrin oozed charisma in an entirely different way. Ulfric was strength, steel and ice all over. Katrin was alive, fire, tenacity. Where Ulfric's men had a respect for him, Katrin's men _adored_ her. Not as their commander, but as their equal. And that, right there, made it entirely clear why the Freedom Fighters had rallied so many so quickly.

"I still can't believe he had the gall to marry someone younger than his _daughter,_ " she scoffed as they turned a corner. "I mean, I know I'm a bastard and he doesn't exactly think about me _ever,_ but still, what is he? Fourty-eight winters now?"

"Fifty, actually," Ingrid corrected.

Katrina scrunched up her face, giving a dramatic shudder. "Ugh. Well, no one can claim you don't love Skyrim, _that's_ for sure."

Ingrid frowned. "Wait, you know the circumstances?"

"Of course I do," Katrin laughed, waving her hand dismissively as she led Ingrid into what looked like a war room. "We'd been intercepting his letters for a while at that stage. That was a huge blow to us, by the way," she said, offering Ingrid a seat. "Good move on his part, I'll give him that."

"What was a huge blow?" She watched as Katrin moved to shelf, rummaging through some papers for something.

Katrin glanced to Ingrid, still sorting away. "We wanted you on our side," she explained, matter of factly. "The _plan,_ " she paused, quickly looking over a document to confirm it was the correct one, "was to have you run during the Kingsmoot. I mean, sure, Ulfric's my old man but that's not a lot to go off as a candidate. _You_ would have been perfect to run Skyrim. A totally independant High Queen. I mean," she brought the document to the table, "sure, you fought for the Stormcloaks, but you're a smart woman. You wouldn't let them bully you."

Ingrid raised an eyebrow, watching Katrin carefully. "But I couldn't run," she explained. "I don't have a claim. I'm not a Jarl."

"On the contrary," Katrin said with a smirk, "anyone can _run_ , but the council has to unanimously agree on allowing them candidacy. You're the Dragonborn. It would have been effortless. But then…" she sighed. "But then Ulfric married you. And while you _could_ have still run and won executive powers," she paused, unrolling the document on the table for Ingrid to see, "Ulfric saw that coming."

It was a letter addressed to the Council, titled _'Petition to Block Candidacy Nomination.'_ Ingrid began to read over it, and it wasn't long until she could feel her blood boil. The letter, penned by Ulfric, detailed that Ingrid was _not_ to be considered a candidate during the Kingsmoot, even if she was nominated, on the grounds that her husband did not grant her permission to do so. The letter even hinted at 'dire trade consequences' if they went ahead anyway.

"This is…" she took a moment to think over it all. "This is why he married me, isn't it?" She asked. "So I couldn't run in the Kingsmoot."

Katrin looked from side to side, a little confused by this. "Well, yes," she said, as though it were obvious. "Did he not tell you that eventually?"

And so Ingrid told Katrin everything, her anger overshadowing the fact that this was literally the leader of the enemy, the person who wanted to dethrone her husband. As she detailed the supposed requirement of an heir and need for a married High King, and Elisif's apparent marriage proposal, Katrin's face went from bemused to mortified to furious. "Why would he do all of this?" She asked. "I mean, I know he's a lying, manipulative power-monger. But this? This is… even for _him,_ this is a new level."

Ingrid thought about this for a moment, and although she thought the answer wouldn't be obvious, she felt a throb where her head had hit the couch and suddenly her answer appeared. "To control me," she said, her eyes wide, as though it was all clear to her. "He always wanted to be the Dragonborn," she recalled. "But if he couldn't _be_ the Dragonborn, the next best thing was to…" she trailed off for a moment. "Control the Dragonborn."

Katrin slowly made her way to Ingrid, eventually resting her hand on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry," she finally said, her voice soft, her eyes sad. "We just assumed the ranting in his letters to you about Elisif was Ulfric's usual brand of paranoia…" Katrin shook her head. "If I'd known any of this I would have found a way to reach out to you sooner." She paused. "He's sending your housecarl to the meeting, by the way. But Galmar won't be too far behind," she warned. "Don't get too emotional with him about that baby."

"Baby?" Ingrid asked.

"I know," Katrin admitted, reaching for a seat near Ingrid's and pulling it over for herself. "Just myself and the person who told me, and we plan on keeping it safe. That's why it was so urgent to get you here to learn about us quickly," she explained, glancing to the ever-growing bump that was somewhat present even beneath the clothes Katrin had given Ingrid, "in case that baby comes out with dark hair and your housecarl's nose."

Ingrid inhaled sharply. "Please," she pleaded quietly, "keep it to yourselves. He'll kill me if he knows."

Katrin shook her head. "Not you. Maybe your boyfriend, but not you," she dropped her shoulders. "I think we can both agree that Ulfric sees you as a trophy. Kind of like an unbroken stallion or something." Katrin frowned, pursing her lips and looking away, suddenly uncomfortable. "What he'll have in store for you is… not something I'd like to think about. But I think the way he was treating you when I found you is enough of an indication."

"You have to get me out," Ingrid suddenly blurted, a wild panic overtaking her, thrown forward from a part of her she didn't realise was there. "Keep me here. Please, I'll help you."

Katrin gave the hand on her shoulder another squeeze before removing it, an apologetic look on her face. "Even if I did that right now, it would be temporary. There's a plan, but we need you to help us."

"Anything," Ingrid agreed.

"Alright, then," with a sudden smile, Katrin leaned back into her seat. "But it's not going to be easy. ...You're the Dragonborn, though, so I guess you'd be used to that by now." She gave a nod, crossing her arms. "There are three outcomes that we'd be happy with," Katrin began to explain, "the first being Ulfric agreeing to our demands of a democratic form of parliament beneath him. Not for him to abdicate or give up his powers, we're not crazy. Just a system of government where elected representatives or even, god forbid, the Jarls come together and sort of give him a hand with the smaller stuff." She paused, scoffing. "The stuff that matters to us down on the bottom of the ladder. The second would be the impeachment of Ulfric resulting in his abdication," Katrin continued. "This would mean that the child you're carrying would become the High King or Queen of Skyrim. You'd be the acting regent until your child comes of age." She smiled Ingrid after saying this. "Sixteen winters of your rule would be the best thing to happen to Skyrim in a long time."

Ingrid nodded along, trying to put that possibility to the back of her mind. "You said there were three?"

"The third," Katrin announced with a sigh, "is full-blown revolution. The people rise up, the High King is dethroned, we instate an entirely democratic system of leadership. But the lives we'd have to lose… it's our last resort, and if I'm to be honest?" She asked. "Even if my father agreed to a parliament in his service, he'd tire of it quickly and disassemble it eventually, which leaves an abdication as our best hope."

"And how do you plan on impeaching him?" Ingrid asked. "He won the Kingsmoot, even under the circumstances. Why would the Jarls impeach him?"

Katrin smiled ear to ear, shifting in her seat and leaning forward. "Now, this is where it gets _interesting,_ " she began, leaning her elbows on her knees and leaning in. "I can say with almost total certainty that Ulfric Stormcloak is a Thalmor Agent." Katrin watched as Ingrid raised an eyebrow. "I know, I know, it's a bit of a crazy theory. But hear me out - it was enough to get this movement going. We have _this,_ " she said, slapping her hand down on another document laid out on the table, beside the petitions and letters. "A Thalmor dossier. Oddly enough, you're the one who got it out of the embassy however long ago," she laughed as Ingrid took the parchment and read over it. "Thank the gods you passed that one off for some coin, hey?"

Katrin was right - Ingrid was definitely familiar with the document, although she was in too much of a rush to really read it through. She'd told it to the first Inn she'd come across along with all the others, in a big pile, for whatever gold they'd give her. She hadn't needed those at the time, but she _did_ need arrows. She cursed under her breath in shock as she came to the information at hand. "I can't believe this," was all she could really come to say.

"Neither can a lot of people," Katrin agreed, "which is where you come in." Ingrid raised another eyebrow as she continued. "You need to get evidence," she explained. "Anything you can. He'll have correspondence somewhere." Katrin asked. "I know this is a lot for you to take in. I know it's a lot to give you. I know it's a risk. But you're the one who can do this without spilling blood," she explained. "If we so much as looked at Windhelm Palace…"

"I'll do it," Ingrid agreed, not needing much thought, driven by her own morbid curiosity and desire for revenge against a man who would take advantage of her nature in such a way.

"My agent will visit you soon," Katrin detailed, wasting no time. "They'll ask _'do you remember Ms Morningstar's sweet rolls?'_ to which you should reply _'I still wonder about that recipe'_ if you have time to break away and talk.

* * *

The exchange had been simple. A prisoner had been released from the Windhelm dungeons and in return, Ingrid was left unscathed at the drop-off point, her hands loosely bound for show, waiting for her housecarl to 'rescue' her. All a ruse, of course, the slyness of it all giving even more legitimacy to Katrin's claim about Ulfric. This was exactly the kind of stunt he'd pull.

Farkas was the one to unbound her hands, helping her onto his horse, thanking the gods out loud that she wasn't too far along yet - lest she be unable to ride. "We're heading back to Windhelm now," he assured her as they rode. "Ulfric and Galmar should return later tonight."

"Return?" She asked. "From where?"

"They sent a tracker after whoever dropped you off," he said, matter-of-factly, "took about two hundred men with them." Farkas gave a shrug. "He's pretty intent on destroying whoever took you."

Ingrid craned her neck around, trying to look behind them, her eyes wide. "What? No," she panicked. "No, he can't, there were barely fifty in there!"

Raising an eyebrow, he tensed his arms, almost preemptively to any attempt by Ingrid to escape. "Ingrid, they kidnapped you," he reminded her. "What's wrong?"

She felt her shoulders drop. Even if she could get out of Farkas' arms, she had no idea where they had taken her in the first place. She'd been transported to the drop-off point blindfolded. "I'll… I'll tell you when we get home," she whispered, realising she'd attracted the men's attention.

A long ride to Windhelm it was.

* * *

"She's alive?" Ingrid repeated when Farkas reported to her in her quarters that night, after Ulfric had returned and his healers had stopped fussing over her. All there was to tend to was a split in the skin just below her hairline - and that was the work of her husband. Not that she would say anything to them about it. "Thank the gods." She sat down in her usual seat, all but collapsing.

Farkas raised his eyebrow again. "Yeah. She's in the dungeons. Why are you so worried about her?" He asked. "She's the leader of the Imperial Sympathizers -"

"Freedom Fighters," she interrupted. "And it's not what you think it is, Farkas."

To her surprise, Farkas crossed his arms, closing himself off to this suggestion. "Really?" He asked. "Because I think she kidnapped you and endangered you _and_ the child, Ingrid. I think you can agree on that."

She gave an exhausted laugh. "She had to find a way to get me away from here to talk. Ulfric is dangerous, Farkas, and there are things that I wish I'd known before. That was it. I'm unhurt."

"Yeah," he scoffed. "Tell that to the healers who had to clean up your head."

Ingrid felt her jaw tense. Her and Farkas didn't always see eye to eye, of course, but one thing that set her off was when he did this to her. When he attempted to discredit what she was saying. When _anyone_ did that it made her mad, but she trusted Farkas to trust her. "This?" She asked, raising her fingers to lift her hair, displaying the small split in her skin. "It wasn't..." Ingrid didn't finish.

Farkas shook his head. "Then how did it happen?" He asked. "Ingrid, stop being the Dragonborn for five minutes," he insisted. "You can't fix everything. You can't fix…" Farkas slowly trailed off, noticing that Ingrid's face, which had started strong and defiant in a way that was uniquely her, had seemingly crumbled. Her lip quivered despite her attempt to hide it, her eyes glossy, her eyebrows unable to relax. It was then he realised. "No," he whispered, dropping his arms. "Ingrid."

Within seconds Farkas was near her, taking her into his arms without thought, Ingrid gripping his furs and burying her face into his chest as she hid her face from him. Crying in front of him wasn't something she tried to make a habit of. He stroked her hair, the two of them sharing a silence, one Ingrid knew was of rage for her housecarl. "Please don't do anything," she murmured, her voice muffled.

"I'll murder him," he growled. She could hear his heartbeat as clear as she could when they made love, as clear as she could when they both had the beast blood.

"No," she insisted, looking up at him, still clinging to him. "I can't be here alone, Farkas. I can't risk not having you near me."

Another silence before Farkas exhaled. "You have a plan, don't you?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied. "But you won't like it."


	17. A Sacrifice

He was at his writing desk when there was a light knock on the door. Ulfric grunted, glancing upwards in the direction of the sound. It was one thing to interrupt him while he was working, but to do so this late at night must have meant that it was important. "Enter," he groaned.

He would have gone back to writing, but when the door opened and his wife peeked her head through, he couldn't help but find himself distracted, if not by his own curiosity. "Ulfric," she spoke quietly, gently closing the door behind her once she was inside, "do you have time?"

The High King gave a long and hearty exhale, placing his quill into it's ink pot, no patience at all for whatever he may have been expecting from her. "Make it quick," was all he said. "If you are here to argue with me, I suggest you save your time and leave. I am not in the mood for your insubordination."

"Actually," she began, making her way to his desk, hesitance in her step. "I wanted to apologise." He'd took this with cynicism, but there was something about the way she was approaching him. Usually there was an air about her that demanded respect, something regal - which, of course, Ulfric had always liked. She suited him. But this time? She was somewhat meet. Maybe even afraid of him. He wondered, for a moment, if it was a good or bad thing to break in a wife if you knew it was for her own good in the end. For the good of an entire Kingdom. Her soft smile suddenly cracked, her hand raising to cover her her mouth as her eyes watered. "It was horrible," she finally whispered, removing her hand to wipe her eyes.

* * *

Farkas made his way to the Dungeons, nodding to the guards as he passed with no effort. He may not have been a Stormcloak, but he was the Queen's housecarl, which gave him somewhat of an advantage in regards to his rank. "Where's their Leader?" He asked the guard by the main entrance to the cell blocks. "The Queen wants to speak to her."

"The Queen?" The guard asked. "The King has given us strict orders to keep her in her cell."

"Well," Farkas sighed, his voice impatient, crossing his arms, "The _Queen_ has requested I bring her to her for an interrogation." He paused and smirked. "A long, drawn out interrogation. You know. For endangering the King's unborn child."

The guard took a second, but he eventually caught on, smiling ear to ear. " _Oh!_ " He laughed, giving a nod. "Well, her 'Freedom Fighter' scum took two of my men when they attacked the Coronation," he explained, stepping aside. "So make sure to deliver a few harsh 'questions' for them."

"Of course," Farkas said with a smile as he passed.

* * *

He watched carefully, almost fascinated with her sudden break-down. "What was horrible?" He asked.

"Where they took me," she explained. "I thought I was going to die, Ulfric. They way they treated me, the things they said…" she squeezed her eyes shut. "You've cared for me so well here that I forgot what it was like, the blood and the death." Her hands wandered to the bump that rose from her torso, coming to rest on it. "It was fine on my own, but now, with the baby… I was so scared." She took a deep breath, opening her eyes to look at him. "You've been so good to me, and I've been so arrogant. So in denial…"

If nothing had caught his attention before, this _did._ "In denial of what?" he asked, leaning forward, watching her intently over the writing desk.

Ingrid looked away, suddenly seeming panicked, as though she'd slipped. Eventually, her eyes rose, catching his gaze. He realised her lips were parted the whole time. "That I love you."

* * *

With a few more retellings of his story, Farkas found himself in possession of the keys to Katrin's cell, more than welcome to unlock it and escort the prisoner to the Queen's quarters.

On actually _seeing_ the Freedom Fighter's leader, Farkas found himself casting aside any doubt he had that this woman was the bastard daughter of Ulfric Stormcloak. The intense glare of hatred that he was on the receiving end of was a perfect display of her parentage, even with the black eye and broken nose. "What is it, then?" she asked, Farkas realising she was also sporting a split lip. "Another beating? Or are you actually going to take me to hang already?"

Farkas couldn't waste any time, instead immediately striding to her and picking her up by her shoulders. It was when Katrin elbowed him in the stomach that he realised he could have possibly approached this slower given the circumstances. "Hey!" He growled, quickly grabbing her by the arms and pulling her to him, his chest against her back, whispering into her ear. "I'm getting you out of here." She frowned, straightening her back as he loosened his grip on her. "I'm the housecarl. Ingrid sent me. Just follow my lead."

* * *

"What did you say?" Ulfric asked, unsure he was hearing correctly.

"I love you," she repeated, somewhat more confident the second time around. "And I have for a long time. But it's scary, Ulfric," she explained, "falling in love with the man who married you for convenience. Not knowing, never being sure if it's real or just a silly maiden's crush." She glanced away, giving a nervous laugh. "I'm sorry, it's stupid, I understand if you-"

"Come here," he said, his voice blunt, a fire in his eyes. Perhaps he had done it, but he had to make sure. "Are you genuine?" He asked as she came around the side of his writing desk, watching as he turned his chair to face her. She gave a nod and he took a deep breath, his posture relaxing into the familiar lean he often took on his throne. "So you will be obedient, then?"

"If you would have me," she replied. "I think it's time to place my pride to the side."

He eyed her, his gaze roaming up and down her form. When he'd first met her, the mighty Dragonborn, she wore armor and challenged almost anyone who told her what to do - except for him. And the _thrill_ that had given him… he would be lying to himself if he didn't admit to his private obsession. "I will tell you my thoughts," he began slowly, "but first you will kneel." He raised an eyebrow as she met his gaze, realising he was serious.

And then it happened. The Dragonborn knelt before him on her knees, as though she were at prayer, her head bowed and subservient. When she had been relieved of his command she had reverted to her usual self, rebellious, unyielding. But here she was, kneeling before him, broken. Back in his command - and the thrill it gave him made him feel like a king.

His fingers began to untie the front of his trousers.

* * *

Farkas led Katrin out of the Dungeons, the two of them walking at a regular speed, although every part of him was begging to run. He led her into Ingrid's quarters, and as soon as the doors were closed and secure he began to work on unbounding her hands. "We don't have a lot of time," he explained, reaching out and handing her a cloak. Katrin inspected it in her hands. It was a fine cloak, lined with fur and with a golden clasp. It was Ingrid's.

"Where is she?" Katrin asked.

"She'll find us later," he explained, handing her a dagger, "getting you out of here is our priority."

He fed his sword into the hilt that hung from his back as Katrin watched, confused. "Ulfric will know," she scoffed. "The second we're missing, he'll suspect her."

"No he won't," he insisted. "Where do you think she is right now?"

"With _Ulfric?_ " Katrin asked. "Are you insane?! You can't guarantee he won't hurt her."

Farkas shook his head, his hand on the door handle, pausing for a moment. "I can," he replied, his voice quiet. "And I'd rather not think about it."

* * *

Ulfric wanted to ask her where she'd acquired such a manner of skill, but he didn't want to ruin this moment. It was exactly how he'd imagined it the first time she'd burst into his throne room without summons. Well, not exactly. But close. His hand found its way to the back of her head, stroking her hair, gently pushing it down every so often. She didn't fight him and it wasn't long until he had to stop her or else he'd end it all too quickly.

He pushed her away gently, pulling himself from her mouth, Ingrid gasping as she caught her breath. She didn't have much of a chance, though, as he leaned forward and gently guided her up towards him, his hand under her chin. "I have loved you," he growled, his voice low as he eventually came to guide her on to his lap, "since the moment you forced your way into my army." He helped her arrange her skirts so that she would be bare to him as he continued. "The day we took back Solitude was the day I knew I would make you mine," he paused, inhaling sharply as she guided herself down on to him, "and mine alone."

Her hands rested on his shoulders as they began to move, her cheeks flushed. "Ulfric," she whimpered as one of his hands came to the back of her neck before pulling her to him, kissing her in a way that made her wonder if he'd ever truly kissed her the way he'd wanted.

* * *

They had broken clear of the Palace. Still no bells or shouting. No one had noticed. Or maybe they had and they were being careful. Farkas couldn't let his guard down. They rode in complete silence, hooded and hidden until they entered the mountains that separated Windhelm from the south. It was then that Katrin pulled her horse to a halt. "Alright," she snapped. "What in the name of Oblivion is going on?"

"What do you mean?" Asked Farkas. "Thought it was pretty obvious."

"No, it's not." Katrin gestured around, as though there should be people with them. "We're missing someone."

Farkas turned, silent, continuing on his way to Windhelm. Katrin waited a few moments for a response, but nothing came. "Hey," she called, nudging her horse to follow. "Hey!" He caught up to him, their horses side by side. "Where is she? Where is Ingrid?" She insisted. No response. "Don't you even care?" She asked.

Farkas pulled on the reins, bringing his horse to a sudden stop. "Do I care?" He asked, his knuckles turning white against the leather of the reins. "I just left the woman I love with Ulfric Stormcloak to rescue _you_ , knowing I'll never be able to step foot in Windhelm again, and you're asking if I _care_?" His jaw tensed and he looked away from her. "More than anything I've cared about in my life. That's why I haven't been talking. Because I've been thinking about it." He gently kicked into the sides of his horse and began moving again. "You'd better be the kind of person Ingrid says you are."

* * *

"I can't believe he'd do this," she sobbed into a handkerchief, her new handmaiden rubbing her back as they sat on the couches in her quarters. Galia, her name was. She was older than Thali by maybe two or three years, and until Thali had left she'd been her second in the chain of handmaidens to the Queen. Initially, Ingrid wondered if Galia was next in line to be Ulfric's mistress. But Galia, although strikingly beautiful, was tanned with brown hair and freckles across her nose - not what Ingrid was beginning to suspect was Ulfric's type. "My own housecarl, a traitor!"

"Did he say anything to you?" Galia asked, glancing to Galmar and Ulfric, who stood in front of the two, arms crossed.

Ingrid shook her head. "Nothing out of the usual," she said with a sniff. "Just that he was going to question her." She wiped her eyes again, looking up to her husband. "Why would he do this?" She asked. "I trusted him with my life."

Ulfric looked to Galmar, who had began to nod along to what she was saying. "I think," he began, "it's obvious. Look at your wife," he said to Ulfric, gesturing to the weeping Queen. "If you weren't my own Shield Brother, I'd have a hard time not finding her fancy, too. How long had he served you?" he asked her.

"Since I came here," she explained, "but we'd fought together long before that, in the Companions. He'd fought beside me ever since."

"Yes," Ulfric nodded, "I even remember seeing him beside you during the War."

"See?" Galmar chuckled. "He's scorned, and I've heard what those Companions can be like. Half wolf, we used to say." He gave a single nod. "This is revenge. Or maybe she even seduced him. You know what men are like when they're longing for a woman. They'll take anything. And I hear that Katrin is wiley, too. A She-Fox, that one."

Ingrid glanced to Ulfric, watching him think over it. "It is true," he finally acknowledged, "that I have noticed the way he looks at you, Ingrid. Perhaps Galmar is right." With this, he turned to his second in command. "Have our men storm Jorrvaskr. Make sure nothing is unturned. I want him alive, along with Katrin."

"No!" Ingrid blurted. "You can't raid Jorrvaskr."

"Why not?" Ulfric asked.

"I know the Companions like my own family. I am the Harbinger, after all," she explained, one of her hands gripping the blankets of the bed she sat on, urgency in her voice. "Aela the Huntress would _never_ hide a fugitive, not even Farkas. If anything, she'd just be even more mad at him. And there's no way she would have hidden it from me. You can't raid them, or else they'll call to arms. Please," she pleaded, "speak to them first. They'll let you search Jorrvaskr, but you _have_ to speak to them."

Ulfric eyed her carefully before giving a gentle sigh, exhaling. "What better advice to get on the matter than that of the Harbinger herself. Galmar," he said, turning to him once more. "Send a messenger to Jorrvaskr asking them to send us a representative." Galmar gave a nod, leaving the room, rushing to arrange what was requested of him. "As for you, Ingrid," Ulfric began closing the distance between them, leaning down to kiss her brow. "Anything you need at all, send word and it will be yours."

With that, Ulfric was gone, and once the door closed she felt her shoulders drop somewhat. Ingrid could breathe. Of course, she couldn't entirely relax - she couldn't trust Galia, and given Thali's betrayal, she wasn't exactly rushing too. "The King," the handmaiden began, sliding off the bed with a smile, "loves you very much. Do you wish to send me for anything? The roses are in bloom, finally, now that the weather has let up. Maybe some rose-water in your bath would ease your mood."

"Yes," Ingrid replied with a faint smile. "Perhaps that would."

Galia gave a gentle bow before leaving in search of rosewater, finally leaving Ingrid alone in her quarters. Farkas and Katrin were safe and hidden. Where they were hidden was genuinely a good question - she'd advised Farkas to head to Jorrvaskr initially, knowing that Vilkas and Aela _would_ keep them, despite what she would have Ulfric believe. From there, though, she had no idea. No doubt that Katrin had a network she could travel them through. All there was for Ingrid to do was wait.

And wait she did. For two months.


	18. The Seeds of War

Ingrid had, despite being the Dragonborn, not taken much time for prayer and worship. Not since her father had died. Part of her had been afraid to worship Talos initially, given what had happened, but once she found herself with the responsibilities of the Dragonborn, she just hadn't had time to think about it. She had too much responsibility to leave anything to the gods. She had to do it herself.

Now, though, she was forbidden to leave the Palace. With no housecarl it was unsafe for her, and now that she was feigning subservience to Ulfric? She had no place to argue. She couldn't let her act falter or else he'd come to realise she'd been playing him all along, helping her friends escape.

As a result, Ingrid had begun to try and take pleasure in daily rituals. She slept with Ulfric every night now, and now that she played the part of a subservient, broken-in-wife, he doted on her in every way imaginable. Whenever she awoke, breakfast would be whatever she asked for. In fact, all her meals were. Her handmaidens helped her dress and prepare, and from there she'd make way to the library. Whenever she was done reading she would wander around the palace, visiting the shrines spread throughout one by one. She'd pray to each one, but she'd spend more time at the shrines of Mara and Stendarr, leaving offerings, waiting in thought.

What she prayed for varied. At first she prayed for the safety of Farkas, that Katrin's agent would arrive for her and get her to safety soon, with little trouble. She prayed for the rebellion, that little more blood would need to be spilled. She prayed for the Companions. But as time passed, her prayers changed, until she prayed for just two things: the strength to survive a life with Ulfric and for the safety and health of her child. She always prayed for her child, which was now kicking about inside her.

If anything, Ulfric was at least genuinely excited about their child. Whenever they had guests he would call Ingrid to meet them, boasting about his child, about his wife. At one point, Ingrid let him feel when the baby kicked, and she could have sworn that he saw his eyes glisten with a tear.

The gifts became more and more lavish, perhaps a way of securing Ingrid to stay. Her wardrobe became the envy of just about every woman in Skyrim, the fabrics imported from every corner of Tamriel. Ulfric adorned her with fine jewels, rings and circlets and necklaces of every stone and metal that could be smithed. His next gift was to celebrate her birthday, holding a lavish ball to celebrate - and, no doubt, to show off his pregnant wife, displaying her obedience to him somehow.

Ingrid didn't want anything to do with such a ball, honestly. She was so tired from restless nights and a restless child inside her that she just wanted to spend her days in bed with books and good food. Still, though, she knew better than to challenge Ulfric at this point.

"You will be glad to know," he said one day as they sat in the gardens, pulling her hair from her neck to kiss along the curve of it, "that the companions have finally sent a representative as ambassador for your ball. We'll catch them yet."

Not thinking, she gently pulled away. "Really?" She asked. "Who?"

"That She-wolf," he replied. "Aela. She's very fond of-"

He didn't get to finish before Ingrid was on her feet and getting as fast as she could at her current size to the guest quarters. Any other time she would have worried about breaking face in front of him, of disobeying him, but she was like a woman starved, desperate to see a friend. When she finally set eyes on Aela in one of the guest suites, she almost cried.

"My word," Aela laughed when she realised Ingrid had already passed through the doorway. "Look at the size of-" the Huntress was thrown off by Ingrid, who without warning embraced her.

"You're here," she whispered. "I thought I'd never see anyone again."

Aela shook her head, waiting for Ingrid to finally pull away from her. "Things have been… complex," Aela explained. "But we won't discuss that today. No, I'm here for your birthday, and I've got your gift right here."

With that, Aela moved to the trunk, taking a small box from the top and presenting them to Ingrid. "Sweetrolls?" Ingrid asked. Odd for Aela to bring her such a thing, but she hadn't had good sweetrolls in a while, come to think of it.

"Do you remember Miss Morningstar's sweetrolls?" She asked, handing one from the plate to Ingrid, her eyes filled with fire.

Ingrid froze, turning silent for what felt like an eternity, her blood running cold. "...I still wonder what that recipe is."

Aela gave a nod, setting down her plate and gesturing for Ingrid to walk with her. She looped their arms, and the two travelled in silence up to Ingrid's quarters, Ingrid leading the way. Once they were inside, Ingrid locked the door behind them. "You're the agent?" She whispered.

"No, I just really like Sweetrolls," Aela replied, rolling her eyes. "I've been with the Freedom Fighters since before you and Stormcock got married. It's not exactly something you go around advertising."

"I've been waiting two months," Ingrid said, drawing the curtains shut. "Has something happened?"

Aela gave a nod, sitting down on one of her couches. "A lot has happened, Harbinger, and I'm going to assume you're not privy to news and current affairs while you're locked up in here." Ingrid shook her head and Aela gave a long exhale. "Your husband's men have been sniffing around Jorrvaskr. They haven't dared to step foot inside, mind you. We made sure they knew from day one what the line was. But it made things on our end difficult."

Ingrid took a seat next to her, her hand on her stomach as she moved, as though it somehow stabilised her. "And Farkas? Katrin?"

"We _were_ keeping those two in the Underforge. Only the Inner Circle really get to know about that, so they were safe. But getting food and water in there for those two was hard with Stormcloaks around all the time," she explained. "It took some planning and orchestrating, but we created a distraction and snuck the two out. I left them with the Thieves Guild in the Riften Ratways. You used to run around with them, so I knew they'd be safe there." She paused, smirking at Ingrid. "Although it'll be a miracle if Farkas doesn't kill Brynjolf, with all of that man's gloating. Wasn't aware you were such a wild thing, Harbinger."

"I was… it was a different time, okay?" Ingrid stammered. "Whatever. What's the plan?" She asked.

Aela sniffed the air. "Your handmaiden is around. Can't talk," she whispered. "Just be ready. That's all I can say."

* * *

A masquerade ball to honor Ingrid's birthday. Ingrid had wondered at first if Ulfric was inviting an attack by the Freedom Fighters, something confirmed when Ulfric let it slip that he'd have his best assassins amongst the guests, all in their masks. While had Ulfric commissioned an outfit for Ingrid, he'd relented after considerable pouting and allowed her to choose for herself, which was a gift in itself considering how much she hated the rigid and shaped bodices of court dresses now that she was so visibly pregnant. Instead she had something flowy made from the fabric purchased for Ulfric's original choice in shades of blues with gold trim. Her hair elaborately styled around her crown, and looked in the mirror as her handmaiden tied on her mask. She certainly looked the image of fertility, that was for sure.

Once Ingrid had entered the ball and danced with her husband, most of her evening was spent at the King's table, poking away at food with a fork. She wasn't very hungry, at least for the heavy meats they'd served. Honestly, all she wanted was a smoked Salmon. She would eat fruit in her room later, she had decided, assuming Ulfric would be drinking early into the morning with his men given his demeanor. To her surprise, he was so involved in his drinking with Galmar that he'd left her alone at her table for at least an hour when she was approached by Galia, a stranger in tow.

"Your Grace," Galia began, curtseying, "I hope you don't mind, but this Gentleman was quite insistent I make an introduct-"

The man gently stepped around Galia, bowing down to Ingrid. "Your Grace, it is an honor to meet you, finally," he purred through a thick accent. His mask obsured his physical features, but based on his accent she guessed he was a Nord. "I am Mjord, master of the Guild of Song."

"Guild of song?" Ingrid asked, intrigued. "The Bard's Guild?"

"A common mistake to make, I assure you," he said with a coy smile. "But no. Although, many of us _do_ find our beginnings there. No, The Guild of Song is for poetry, song and art about life's greatest gifts of beauty and love." He took her hand, raising it to his mouth to kiss the back of it, maintaining eye contact the entire time. "And if I may be as brash and bold to say so, you have been the muse behind my work for much time."

Ingrid laughed, fully giving her attention to this stranger, incredibly amused by him. "Is that so?" She asked.

He shot her another smile. "The snow is her skin, the sun her smile, the fire is her eyes," he recited, "my world becomes Queen Ingrid, and the wind becomes sweet sighs. Her joy is Summer, Spring her lust, soft warmth that linger looms, and I would wait through Winter, just to make those flowers bloom."

"Wow," Ingrid laughed, feeling a little taken aback. It wasn't exactly the work of great prose, but it was a cheeky poem to recite to the Queen. "That was lovely."

"Please, Your Grace," he said with another bow, "The King may smite me down but it will all be worth it if you would grant me just one dance."

She glanced to her husband. Ulfric was now singing with his men, Galmar drunk to the point of redness. Ingrid was pretty sure that she could murder someone in front of him and he wouldn't notice at this stage, and offered her hand to Mjord. "It would be my pleasure," she agreed, standing as he took her hand, "I have been sitting for too long."

Mjord led her to the dance floor, a new song starting, one of the many that Thali had taught her in her time. Ingrid felt a pang of sadness - she didn't truly realise how much she missed her until moments like these. Perhaps Thali would be proud of her if she'd seen her remembering the steps, or moving perfectly in time, even as pregnant as she was. Would Thali notice the way Ingrid held her head high even though her world was far from the one she wanted, the way she smiled gently despite being stranded, abandoned by her lover? Ingrid had turned her nose up at the game of court for the longest time, but now that she was alone there, she had no choice but to play it to win.

"It seems," Mjord said quietly, moving into another step with her that allowed him to whisper over her shoulder, "there is something on your mind, Your Grace. Does the music touch your heart?" He asked. "Perhaps you are reminded of a man other than the King?" He smirked, his hand sliding down her arm to meet her hand as the move required. "I wonder, are you satisfied?" He asked. "You strike me as a woman who is never so."

"I don't know what you mean," Ingrid replied, a false laugh in her voice, an eyebrow raised. It was hard to read his expression with his mask in the way. "You forget yourself."

The conversation paused as they both took a small turn, coming to face each other again, looping their arms together. "You're like me, Your Grace," he explained. "I'm never satisfied."

"Is that right?" She asked, admittedly a little taken by the risk he was taking. Ulfric was less than a stone's throw away and it was no secret that the King was possessive of his Queen. He gave a smirk, the two coming to a stop as the music ended, a polite applause surrounding them from the others who were dancing and the onlooking guests - as was tradition when the Queen participated.

"Perhaps," Mjord whispered, "Your Grace may be receptive to meet with me later tonight so to hear more of the work she has inspired." He raised his hands in playful innocence, sensing her unease. "I assure you, I am a bard smitten, but I am still a gentleman. I only wish to to have your ear."

Ingrid glanced to Galia, who was waiting for her at the table. Dessert had arrived. "I suppose meeting you in the gardens would be fi-"

"No," he interrupted. "The library. The snow is bitter." He smiled, taking her hand and kissing the back once more before giving a final bow. "I will await you with an eagerness unmatched."

Not wanting to raise an eyebrows, she gave him a courteous nod and returned to Galia, taking her seat as though nothing had happened. "Ah, snowberry cake," she mused, poking her fork at the plate. "I wonder who told Ulfric about _that_ craving?" Ingrid joked, side-eyeing Galia.

Galia, however, was not concerned with the dessert, instead taking a seat by Ingrid's side, moving it closer to speak in hushed and panicked whispers. "What did he want?" She asked, trying to find him in the crowd again.

"Just a dance," Ingrid dismissed. "He has poetry for me. It's sweet, really."

"Your Grace," Galia gasped, raising a hand to her chest, "you do not mean that you'll be giving him your patronage."

"My what?" Ingrid asked.

Galia leaned in even closer, whispering as though it was the darkest secret in Tamriel. "Your Grace, a Bard such as he doesn't often seek to meet his muse unless… well…" she paused, searching for the words. "Traditionally, a Lady only offers a Bard her patronage if she finds… if they become…" Galia tilted her head to the side. "You know. They prefer each other's company. And the King does love you so! It would break his heart."

At this, Ingrid couldn't help but let out a laugh. "Oh, Galia, I would never!" A lie, of course. She was laughing at the idea of breaking Ulfric's heart.

The rest of the night was a night spent in thought. Ingrid couldn't help but toy with the idea of meeting with him. Maybe even taking him as a lover, if that was his intention - and honestly, Ingrid wasn't born yesterday. She wanted to wait for Farkas, but he was so long gone. Two months with no word, nothing to indicate he was coming for her. The Farkas she'd known would have burned down the city to get her back. Instead she'd been left with Ulfric, who, in desperation she had tried to love at a point. She had tried to forgive him for what she secretly knew he'd done to her, for locking her up and clipping her wings like a bird in a cage. She tried to love him like she should love her husband, like she should love the supposed father of her child. But she hadn't been able to. At night he would have his way with her and she would feel an ache in her chest, missing Farkas, longing for _him._ Ulfric had taken that from her.

So she sat, and waited, and planned a way to sneak to the library to meet with Mjord. Perhaps she'd spurn him after hearing his poems. Perhaps she would take him as a lover. The idea of someone wanting her even though Ulfric would kill them, even though she was visibly pregnant, was something that lit a warmth in her chest. Something that made her feel a little less like an object.

When the time came and they returned to her chambers, she let Galia take her leave for the night. With Ulfric still drinking somewhere, Ingrid made her way to the library.

* * *

"Ah," Mjord's voice crooned from behind a bookcase in the empty library, his masked face lit by candlelight. Ingrid thought it curious he was still masked so long after the ball. Even she had at least removed her mask. Perhaps he was ugly under there, or maybe he was trying to stay mysterious to further catch her attention. Up to this point it was working, Ingrid still curious. "There she is, the rose atop a stem of thorns, the sapphire affixed in hardened bronze, the snow that rests on a dragon's wings." Mjord closed a book he'd been holding, placing it back into the shelf before striding towards her, taking her hand once more to kiss it. "If I could dream that we would have such a meeting, I would never need to awaken."

"Yes, well," she laughed, "I was intrigued. The Palace is hardly full of the interesting people I have been accustomed too."

Mjord gave a nod, still holding her hand in his. "Of course," he sighed, frowning behind his mask. "A man such as the King cannot understand that to cage a bird of flight is to surround it in sorrow, to deny it of adventure, of song, of love." He paused, his other hand coming to enclose hers now. "May I be as bold as to recite more prose you have inspired?" He asked. "It is somewhat more… passionate."

"Of… of course," Ingrid stuttered, blushing some what. She hadn't known what to expect, but this was somewhat new.

He took another step towards her, closing the gap between them. "She, skin so soft perhaps it would melt, a mind so sharp it would cut mine. She, lips I long to take in mine, words of death locked behind." His right hand began to wander up her arm as he spoke. "She, two breasts against my back, a greater safety than any blade. She, the tender sighs she makes, my name a command in the love we make." Mjord's fingers cupped her jaw, and Ingrid realised how close they were, that he was whispering now. "Many women I have had, yet She comes to elude my grasp. She, though silent as the dead, her breath like heaven within our bed. She, with breasts that fill my hands, pale as the moon, soft as the sands. She, against the Ratway walls, inside the crypt, throughout the halls. I knew her a thief from the very start, but it was She who stole my heart."

At some stage he had become so close that he was whispering against her lips, and the silence that fell over them as they came to share a gentle kiss was such that Ingrid could swear that she could hear his heart beat softly, as though it were in the distance. There was something about Mjord, something familiar, the way risking with him was a thrill yet still somehow felt safe. Her eyes snapped open as Mjord's hands gripped her waist and he suddenly deepened the kiss, the surprise of which causing her to suddenly shove him away. "Easy!" She gasped, her chest heaving, watching as he smirked.

"I'm sorry," he apologised. "It was just… I've missed that arse of yours." Ingrid was shocked, but less by what he said and more by how he said it. His voice had entirely changed. His accent was gone, and… and...

Her eyes widened. The Ratways. He mentioned the Ratways in that poem. No one knew about her time in the guild except Farkas and…

"Brynjolf?"

He chuckled, reaching up and removing his mask. "Sorry, Lass," he said with a smirk, untying his red hair, "had to get you in here somehow, so I went with what I knew. Also, kissing the Queen will get me a lot of free drinks at the tavern."

Incensed, Ingrid shook her head, stepping back. "What in the name of Oblivion?!" She said, her voice raised, echoing through the Library. Brynjolf stepped forward, palms raised as he shushed her.

"Easy, Lass, easy," he insisted, "I'm here to get you out."

Ingrid froze. Had this been the plan the whole time. "But… I…" she shook her head. She honestly had not expected _this._ Aela, yes. Brynjolf? No. "You? Really?"

He grinned, "well, while your friend is planning the attack, someone has to steal the documents about your old ball and chain," laughed

"Attack?" She asked. "What attack?"

"Aela is readying it. Gave her a reason to be in the city without raising any eyebrows. She's got 'em all sneaking in through the servant's tunnels." Brynjolf's eyes wandered down to her prominent bump, his expression sinking. "Don't suppose you can exactly sneak like you used to with that bairn, hey?"

"But this attack," she insisted, ignoring him, "when is it happening?"

He shrugged. "Soon as she gets the single from your handmaiden, but not until after we get those documents." The Thief crossed his arms. "And he keeps those in his quarters, doesn't he? Hard to sneak in."

Ingrid shook her head. "No. It won't be. Because he'll be distracted, and you'll be able to walk right through."

* * *

If anyone else had woken Ulfric at this time of night when he was so deeply in sleep, he would be furious. After the initial shock of awakening, though, he calmed at the sound of his wife's voice. Not Galmar or a general or a messenger like he'd expected. His young, pretty wife. Now that she had finally settled and was heavy with child, she'd become everything he'd imagined, and day by day she surrendered herself to him more and more.

And now she had come to his chambers in the middle of the night, cooing his name so sweety, the same way she did whenever he'd had the pleasure of bedding her - one of his better decisions, if he were to be honest. She had a pleasant way to her when she let her guard down. Ulfric opened his eyes, ready to see his wife, probably at the end of his bed in her nightclothes.

But before he could even worry about Ingrid, he realised there was an arrow pointing directly towards his face, bow drawn and ready to be fired by the devil herself. There was a long, cold, painful silence before he finally decided it was safe to speak. If she was going to kill him, she wouldn't have waited. "What is the meaning of this?" He asked. The thought of alerting the guards crossed his mind, but he'd seen Ingrid in battle before. That arrow would be between his eyes if he even dared.

"You have a lot of explaining to do, and quickly," she growled, unmoving. "I know everything, Ulfric. The reason you married me, to keep me out of the Kingsmoot." It was all she could do from baring her teeth. "Elisif was never a threat to you. I was. If I'd run in the Kingsmoot, I would have won."

At first, Ulfric seemed somewhat shocked, but the hint of it in his eyes dissolved into the same cold, self-assured smugness he exhibited whenever in negotiations. "And you think you would have made a better ruler than me?" He asked.

Ingrid inhaled sharply, trying to curb her anger. "It's not about that and you know it," Ingrid hissed. "You lied to me. You tricked me into _marrying_ you." She fell silent for a moment, trying to hide her sadness from him and attempting to channel her anger instead. "You tricked me into having a child with you."

Ulfric have a sudden chuckle, crossing his arms. "I cannot believe this," he scoffed, shaking his head. "Go ahead, tell your stories, see who will believe you. You're hysterical." He eyed her up and down, a sly smile on his face. "Perhaps I was wrong to think you would be safe in Windhelm. You are stressed. I wonder if spending the remainder of your pregnancy somewhere quiet and isolated would benefit your health."

"Threaten me all you like," she replied, entirely blunt, unshaken. "I saw it all. Documents, letters, everything. Katrin has all of it."

He paused. "Katrin?" He asked.

"The leader of the Freedom Fighters."

Ulfric openly laughed at this, a short one, purely meant to belittle her. "Ah, yes, _her._ Tell me, is she as beautiful as I've heard?" He asked. "I should take her as a wife instead. Even _she_ would be less trouble."

Ingrid smirked. "Oh, she's beautiful, definitely. But I wouldn't recommend marrying your daughter." Her smirk had become an ear-to-ear grin as Ulfric's face simultaneously sank. "That kind of thing is generally frowned upon, even if she is illegitimate."

The silence that followed was dense, heavy and humid with consequence. "What makes you think that she tells the truth?" He asked, his voice noticeably quiet, emotions in his eyes that Ingrid couldn't read despite her best effort.

"I've spent time with her," Ingrid explained, her position firm. "I've seen her lead. She is so much like you, her command of a room, her laugh, her temper… she's everything you could have been. She's the leader you _should_ have been." He was silent again and the intensity of his gaze was so much that Ingrid worried he would shout her through the wall. She was safe, though. As long as she was carrying his child, she was safe from too much harm. "Tell me," she finally said, "what _didn't_ you lie about?"

He exhaled, perhaps giving up, perhaps to stifle his rage. "My love," he said plainly. "For our child. For you. And I swear to you now that I will cut down anyone who stands in the way of that."

"Even if I don't love you?" She asked.

"I won't stop until you do."

Another voice entered the fray. "It's time, Lass," Brynjolf said, now behind her. She'd done a good job. If Ulfric had noticed Brynjolf, he wasn't able to do anything about it.

"Well," Ingrid began with a gentle sigh. "Good luck with that. My mind is pretty made up."

Ingrid released the arrow, the barb shooting straight into the meat of Ulfric's left arm. He roared, throwing his head back as Ingrid readied a second arrow, should he decide to attack. Instead, the King gripped his arm, smirking at her. "You stupid woman," he growled. "You couldn't even kill me."

"Oh, I could have," she said with a smile, "but that wasn't what I was planning."

Ulfric opened his mouth to protest, but he suddenly frowned, the color draining from his face as the sleeping potion that had coated the barb set in. Ingrid called for Galia to light the signal as the King hit the backboard of the bed, passing out.

The revolution had truly begun.

* * *

 _Yes. That was a Hamilton reference. I know I'm trash, no need to tell me._


End file.
